Mr Monk Meets Simon and Simon
by Texasartchick
Summary: Monk and Sharona go to San Diego to help Downtown Brown catch an elusive serial killer, and the Simon brothers are hired to help with the case. COMPLETE!
1. A Mysterious Murder

DISCLAIMER: Rating - PG13 (it's a murder mystery after all), for a little cussing & swearing and a body count. and Simon & Simon are not owned by me, they are owned by USA Network and CBS. This is just a stupid fan fiction and I won't make any money off of it. Minor spoilers for Mr. Monk Goes to the Theater. Enjoy!   
  
  
Chapter 1  
  
  
10:35pm, Saturday night. Captain Stottlemeyer slowly exited his unmarked police car. He and Lt. Randy Disher had just arrived on the scene of the brutal murder that had shattered a peaceful evening in one of San Francisco's upper-income suburban neighborhoods. The house Leland saw looked like almost every other house in this community, but this house was the exception - something terrible had happened inside. Forensics was already on the scene, and he watched the team's most experienced photographer load his camera and enter the house. The Captain took a deep breath, then said Ok Randy, let's see what we've got this time.   
  
The two officers made their way past the police barricade tape that held back the curious neighbors, and started up the front sidewalk. Flashes from the crime scene photographer's camera could be seen through the bay window overlooking the front lawn. Stottlemeyer approached the Sergeant temporarily controlling the scene and received a brief run-down; Susan Hopkins, a single, 38 year old human resources consultant, had been strangled to death in her brand new suburban home. Approximately one hour ago, someone walking their dog phoned in a report of suspicious activity in the house, saying that he thought he'd heard the sounds of a struggle taking place inside. Two marked units were immediately dispatched to the scene, and the officers broke into the house to find the woman dead on the living room floor. They then immediately locked down the house as a crime scene and called it in.  
  
Captain Stottlemeyer thanked the Sergeant for doing a good job and officially took over the scene. He and Lt. Disher carefully threaded their way through the house, being mindful of every step, until they reached the living room. As Leland stepped onto the cream-colored carpet, he slowly shook his head. Damn......I hate these...., he said under his breath. One look told the veteran officer that this was no ordinary homicide. The woman's body had been stripped naked, and her clothes had been neatly folded and placed on the seat of a dining room chair sitting only a few feet from where she lay. Her body had been carefully arranged by her killer after strangling her to death; placed on her left side with her head pointed towards the bay window, legs together, knees bent, and hands together in front of her face mimicking a position. Her hands and feet were tightly bound with white nylon rope. Disher and the Captain leaned over the body to take a closer look at the bindings. Randy said Wow, look at that. What kind of knots did he tie?, and indeed the knots the killer had used were highly unusual. One loop protruded from the top of the tight knot, and the two ends of the rope, each end being almost exactly the same length, emerged from the bottom. Neither officer had ever seen a knot like this before.  
  
The Captain stood to survey the rest of the scene. There were signs of a struggle;a burgundy throw-rug was wrinkled, a few pillows from a nearby couch were strewn about the floor, a lamp on one of the two end tables was lying on it's side. Then Leland's gaze came to rest on the pile of clothes on the chair. Something small and shiny had been placed on top of the clothes. Pointing to the chair, he asked the photographer, Did you photograph this yet? He had, so Stottlemeyer pulled a ball point pen out of his pocket and bent down to examine the object closer. Randy, get your flashlight over here. Take a look at this. Lt. Disher pulled a small flashlight from his belt and moved next to the Captain.  
  
What is it, sir? he asked, bathing the small metal object in light.  
  
The Captain turned it over with his pen. It looks like a woman's cameo....there's an inscription on the back. It says, To my daughter Jenna, with all my love.'....what is our victim's name?  
  
Her name is Susan Hopkins.  
  
Did she have a daughter named Jenna?  
  
Disher looked through the pages of his note pad. No sir, she didn't have any kids, and she was single. None of her female family members are named Jenna, either.  
  
Captain Stottlemeyer's face darkened. He stood up, turned to Lt. Disher, and said, Why in the hell would a killer do - he motioned towards the chair - THIS? I mean, why fold her clothes, stack them on the chair, then put the cameo on top of it? It just doesn't make any sense!  
  
I don't know, sir. The Lieutenant's face brightened in sudden inspiration. Maybe it's not her cameo?  
  
Disher waited for his mentor to scold him for voicing another of his half-baked ideas, but instead, the Captain was silent, his brow furrowed in thought. Eventually, he turned to Disher, who was completely astounded when Stottlemeyer finally said, Maybe you're right. He paused. Nothing about this crime scene seems right to me. Something....very strange is going on here, I can feel it. And I don't like it one bit. He put his hand to his chin, and with a worried look in his eyes, said, Lieutenant, go call Adrian Monk. NOW. I want him down here immediately, while the scene is still fresh.  
  
Disher was surprised. The Captain HATED having to call in Monk in on a case, but this time there was a definite sense of urgency in his voice. Randy was starting to get a bad feeling about this case. I think this is the start of something awful, Randy. This guy, he's definitely killed before..... the Captain's voice trailed off for a moment, then he continued, This is gonna get worse. We have to stop this immediately. And I think we're gonna need all the help we can get. We need Monk.  
  
  
  
  
Adrian Monk and Sharona Fleming arrived on the scene approximately one hour later. The Captain and Lt. Disher were waiting for them on the front sidewalk. Monk exited the car quickly, clearly excited to be working on a new case, and approached the two officers. Sharona followed her boss.   
  
Hello Captain, Lieutenant. What do we have?  
  
This is a weird one, Monk the Captain said. Sharona, maybe you'd like to wait out here?  
  
No thanks Captain, I can take it.  
  
Stottlemeyer sighed, Ok, your call. He turned, motioned for them to follow him, and he led them into the living room. At exactly 9:38pm, someone passing by the house called 911 to report they thought there was a fight going on inside. The cops show up, break in, and find our victim as is. Nothing's been touched, the scene is pristine.  
  
Monk slowly walked into the living room and looked around. He focused on the rumpled throw rug, wanting to straighten it out, but restraining himself from doing so. The couch had a small table by either end, each table with a lamp sitting on it, but the lamp on the table nearest the body was laying on it's side. Three of the couch's throw pillows were on the floor. Monk reached out to touch the lamp shade, feeling the urge to set it upright, then twitched his shoulders and nervously worked his jaw as he forced himself to ignore the displaced lamp. He moved over to the body and stood at her feet, kneeling down to take a closer look. He carefully studied the knots the killer had tied, then he rose and examined the chair, clothing and mysterious cameo. He pulled a silver pen out of his pocket, using it to poke at the piece of jewelry, then turning it over. Stottlemeyer, Disher, and Sharona patiently watched and waited for Monk to finish his thing.  
  
Finally, Monk finished his observations and approached them. Captain, I see why you called me in. He looked at the lamp again, fighting the urge to fix it.  
  
I told you it was a weird one. So......what do you think?  
  
Monk looked back at the body. Has the forensics team processed this scene yet?  
  
Disher piped up, Just the photographer, and the Medical Examiner getting the body's temp. They touched nothing.  
  
You're SURE they haven't collected any evidence?  
  
YES, we're sure the Captain stated firmly, obviously starting to get annoyed.  
  
Show me exactly where he was standing, Captain.  
  
Stottlemeyer pointed to an area of the carpet around the woman's feet. He was right here....see?, he pointed to some oval shapes imprinted on the rug. That's where he knelt down while using the thermometer.  
  
Monk's brows pulled together. That's strange, then.   
  
  
  
This carpet....it's been vacuumed.....there are no footprints, or other marks on the carpet around the body, except here, where the M.E. was taking the temperature. Everyone looked at the carpet. The killer had to have been standing over here, near her head, to position the body like this.....he vacuumed the rug AFTER moving her.  
  
Captain Stottlemeyer was glad that he had called in Monk.   
  
Disher offered one of his unique theories. Maybe he's a neat-freak, like Monk?  
I mean, maybe he has OCD?   
  
No, no, he was removing as much trace evidence from the scene as possible. Monk replied. Check her vacuum. I'm sure you'll find the bag is missing.  
  
Lieutenant, find the vacuum and check the bag. Be careful of prints.  
  
Yes sir! Disher ran off to find the vacuum.  
  
The Captain shook his head in disbelief as Disher left the room. Monk, what do you think about the clothes on the chair? And the knots he used to tie up his victim?  
  
This is his signature, his ritual. He tied her up after he killed her. If you look into other recent murders, in surrounding areas, I'm sure you'll find more cases with these hallmarks. I'm not sure exactly what it means to him personally, but it's obvious that he's done this before. I think we're dealing with a serial killer.  
  
And the Cameo?  
  
He deliberately put it in an obvious place, to make sure we saw it. He WANTED us to find it, Captain.  
  
Monk's words filled Captain Stottlemeyer with a sense of dread. He heard them again them in his head - serial killer - that was the last thing he wanted to hear. His worst fears had just been confirmed. Disher returned with the news that the vacuum's bag was, indeed, gone.   
  
Monk looked at the lamp again, desperately trying to resist the rising compulsion to set it upright. He rubbed his temple with his index finger. Sharona sensed his distress and immediately appeared by his side. What's wrong?   
  
That lamp.....it's bothering me....  
  
Sharona placed her hand on his arm. Just calm down, and try to concentrate.  
  
But it's out of place!  
  
Remember, the Captain said he really needed you on this one. She gently patted his shoulder, then smiled reassuringly. You can do it. You're the best, remember?  
  
Monk nodded, the slight hint of a smile crossing his face. He turned to the Captain again, and asked, What was the time of death?  
  
  
  
Disher flipped through his notepad. The M.E. says she's been dead since......this can't be right.....about 8:45pm.   
  
Monk looked at Disher. The Captain frowned at his Lieutenant.   
  
He says the body's temperature indicates that she's been dead since 8:45. It's right here, sir.  
  
Monk hurried over to the body and looked at it again.  
  
Damn it Randy, the Captain bellowed, Get that idiot back in here to do it right! We can't afford ANY mistakes on this one!  
  
, Monk interrupted, I think the time of death is correct!  
  
Stottlemeyer stopped yelling and looked at Monk. What did you say?  
  
The time of death is correct, she was killed at 8:45pm.  
  
And why do you say that, Monk? We have the 911 call, on tape, saying there was a struggle here at 9:38.  
  
Captain, THINK! If the killer really was attacking her at the time the call was made, he wouldn't have been able to tie her up, arrange her body, and fold these clothes like this. And THEN he vacuumed the carpet.....he wouldn't have had enough time before the officers arrived on the scene. And besides, she wasn't in any condition to put up a fight..... Monk then bent down and sniffed near the dead woman's face....he used chloroform to subdue her.  
  
Stottlemeyer was stunned.   
  
Disher looked confused. Well then, who called 911?  
  
Adrian looked at Disher. I think the killer called, to make sure we found her when HE wanted us to find her. And it also means that there was no struggle. So the question is, WHY did he leave the room exactly like this? He must be telling us something, leaving some sort of message. Monk looked around the room again, saw the pillows on the floor, rumpled rug, and the overturned lamp. That lamp.....he hurried over to examine it again. The bulb was still intact. Adrian crouched down to take a closer look, and that's when he saw it. There was a single strand of very fine fishing line tied to one of the support bars inside the lamp shade. The thread went out of the top of the shade and disappeared underneath the edge of the wooden table. Monk followed it, careful not to disturb anything. He cautiously peered under the table's edge.   
  
Stottlemeyer asked Well? Did you find something?  
  
Yes, I did. Monk motioned for the Captain to come over and take a look.   
  
He crossed the room, crouched down on the floor next to Adrian, and looked underneath the table.   
  
Monk looked at the Captain. There's your message, Captain. He's saying he doesn't want me on this case. He knows I'll catch him.  
  
The other end of the fishing line was tied to the pin of a hand grenade, taped into place underneath the table.   
  
  
  
  
Adrian and Sharona arrived at Captain Stottlemeyer's office at around 10:00am the following Monday. Sharona lightly knocked on the door, then she and Adrian walked inside. Stottlemeyer sat at his desk, and Disher sat in a chair across from him. The Hopkins case file was spread out over the Captain's desk. Both officers appeared worn and haggard, and it became obvious to Adrian that neither of them had slept much, if at all, since Saturday night. They had been working almost nonstop on the case, and both men looked exhausted. Sharona picked up on this as well.   
  
The Captain leaned back in his chair, rubbed his eyes, and grumbled Mornin' Monk, Sharona. Disher rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his head around to loosen up. Sharona walked over to the coffee pot, poured two cups of fresh coffee, and set one down on the desk in front of each officer.   
  
Looks like you guys need this. They thanked her and started drinking the coffee.  
  
Monk waited for them to take a few sips, then asked Well? What do you have?  
  
The Captain was clearly not happy with the way this case was progressing. Not one usable print, not even from the underside of the tape he used on the grenade. No trace evidence, no footprints outside, the rope he used can be bought from any hardware store. The scene was clean. So far, everyone she knew has an alibi that checks out, even ex-boyfriends.   
  
And I've been scouring local, state, and national databases almost nonstop since Saturday night. Disher lamented. I even checked with the FBI's Behavioral Sciences Unit. Nothing matches this case.  
  
That doesn't mean that other similar murders aren't out there, the Captain added, a lot of precincts don't put cases like this on the database, afraid someone else will beat them to the punch. It just means we haven't found anything.  
  
Sharona decided to sit in the other chair in front of the Captain's desk. Monk continued to stand. He fidgeted with the wedding band on his left hand, thinking about the events of yesterday morning. As he and Sharona were walking to the grocery store, someone in a brown Honda Accord had screeched to a halt in the street next to them and fired three shots out of the passenger window. Fortunately, Adrian heard the car's tires squealing and looked over his shoulder in time to see the car approaching fast. He reacted instantly and pulled Sharona down to the ground behind a parked car. The bullets hit the car and the side of a building, then the driver sped off. They were both shaken up, but no one was hurt. Monk felt certain that both the shooting and the Hopkins murder the night before were connected.   
  
What about the drive-by shooting yesterday morning? Any leads on the car?  
  
Dished finished the last of his coffee, then spoke up. The car was stolen, Monk. We found it abandoned on the south side of town. Inside was clean, hardly a speck of dust to be found. Not even dust on the dashboard. Looked brand new.  
  
Had the carpet and seats been vacuumed?  
  
Disher pulled out his notepad, flipped through a few pages, and scanned the pages for a minute. Looks like it. Well, at least forensics thinks so. There wasn't any dirt on the floors at all, not even between the seats, and this car was five years old.  
  
Monk looked at Stottlemeyer. Two attempts on my life in two days. Both crime scenes vacuumed to remove evidence. It has to be the same guy, Captain.  
  
Monk, I know you think this serial killer is after you, but how do you know that the grenade at the Hopkins scene was meant for you specifically? Maybe the guy just wanted to kill a few cops?  
  
Captain, remember that article the Los Angeles Times did about me three months ago? After I solved the murder at the theater and cleared Sharona's sister Gail?  
  
  
  
Well, here's the picture they ran with that article. He pulled a copy of the picture out of his jacket pocket and handed it to the Captain. Stottlemeyer leaned forward in his chair, took the picture and examined it closely. The photo showed Monk in his signature brown suit standing in the middle of a disorganized crime scene, a wipe in his right hand, picking up a lamp that had been knocked over on an end table. I think he saw this article. He KNEW I would want to pick up that lamp, Captain. And the drive-by? I mean, come on-  
  
Save it, Monk. You've convinced me. He handed the picture back to Adrian, who draped a wipe over his hand before retrieving it. The Captain leaned back in his chair again and rubbed his forehead, looking like the weight of the world was bearing down upon him. Monk actually felt sorry for the guy. He and Lt. Disher had pushed themselves near the brink of exhaustion trying to break this case, and so far they had nothing but dead ends. With a heavy sigh, Captain Stottlemeyer proclaimed his defeat. He looked at Monk, and asked, with a hint of hope in his voice, Well Monk? Any Ideas?  
  
Adrian was silent, thinking as he looked around Stottlemeyer's office. He focused on the map of the city that hung on the wall. Lieutenant, exactly where was that stolen car abandoned?   
  
Disher pulled himself out of his chair, walked over to the map, and pointed to a spot near the bottom. Right here, in the parking lot of a gas station.  
  
He left it here? Monk looked at the map closely. This station is on the southbound side of the highway, right on the southern edge of town.   
  
What are you thinking, Monk? the Captain asked, anticipation creeping into his voice.  
  
Pointing to the spot on the map, he said Well, this gas station....it's right by the highway. He probably drove the stolen car here immediately after the shooting, abandoned it for his own vehicle that he had parked there, then drove straight out of town on I-95. Monk moved his finger down the map, being careful not to actually touch it, tracing the path of the major highway. He turned to look first at the Captain, then Disher. He was going back home.  
  
And where do you think he lives?  
  
I don't know. Maybe Los Angeles, or some other major metropolitan area, where he could operate unnoticed for a long time. He looked at the map again. There are a lot of major cities along this highway, could be any of them. But I'm absolutely certain that you will find more murders like this one.  
  
Captain Stottlemeyer arched his bushy eyebrows, and looked over at Disher. Lieutenant, have several extra copies of this case file ready for me by tomorrow afternoon. I'm going to take it to the California Law Enforcement Conference this Wednesday and ask if anyone else has similar cases.  
  
Disher looked surprised. But sir, I thought you said you hated those things?  
  
Well I WAS going to skip it, because they are boring as hell. But, in light of recent events, he motioned towards the crime scene photos spread across his desk, and the fact that we have no hits on the databases and almost no leads, I think I should attend. Besides, cops are more willing to share case information over a good cup of coffee. A little face time might just pay off.  



	2. The Conference

DISCLAIMER: Rating - PG13 (it's a murder mystery after all), for a little cussing & swearing and a body count. and Simon & Simon are not owned by me, they are owned by USA Network and CBS. This is just a stupid fan fiction and I won't make any money off of it. Minor spoilers for Mr. Monk Goes to the Theater. Enjoy!   
  
  
Chapter 2  
  
  
  
Wednesday, 12:05pm, Los Angeles, presentation theater of the Mayfair hotel. Captain Stottlemeyer sat in the back of the audience, patiently waiting for the speaker to finish pimping his new book about the Jon Benet Ramsey case. He hated sitting through these presentations. These Law Enforcement Conferences were increasingly monopolized year after year by companies hoping to sell crap to police departments. Leland looked at his watch, hoping the sales pitch would end soon. This was the main event for the conference, and the room was packed with cops from all over the state. As soon as the speaker finished, attending officers were given an open mike to address the audience and share information about difficult cases. No cop wanted to take that long walk to the podium, as it meant admitting that you and your department had failed. But Stottlemeyer was willing to swallow his pride and take that walk today. He knew that, if he could just find another case, it would probably give Monk everything he needed to take this killer off the streets before he killed again.  
  
The room broke out in applause, and Stottlemeyer looked up to see the speaker leaving the podium. , he thought to himself. A hotel employee rolled an overhead projector over to the podium, pointing it towards the large screen on stage, and then The Commissioner of the Los Angeles Police Department rose from his seat in the front row and moved to the microphone. He thanked the audience, then he opened the floor to any officer that wished to present a case, and went back to his seat.   
  
A hush fell over the room. Chairs creaked as people looked around, waiting to see who would take the floor. Leland adjusted his tie and gathered his case file under his arm. He mumbled a few choice curse words under his breath, and with a heavy sigh, started to rise from his seat in the back row. But then he stopped, and sat back down.....someone else had beat him to it.   
  
Stottlemeyer watched the officer as he made his way to the stage, his arms laden with a large stack of case files. He was a black man, about 5'10 and well-built, with very short hair, and a neatly trimmed mustache and beard that closely followed his angular jaw. A dark green polo shirt was tucked into his blue jeans, and his badge hung from a thin chain around his neck. He moved with an air of confidence and strength about him. A murmur went through the crowd, and Leland overheard someone mutter something about that rookie Captain from San Diego. The Captain set the files on top of the podium, adjusted the microphone, and began to address the crowd.  
  
I'm Captain Brown from the San Diego Police Department, but most of you know me as Downtown Brown. We have a big problem down in San Diego, and I'm here today asking for your help. If anyone has similar cases in their department, _please _contact us!  
  
Someone in the seat next to Stottlemeyer started whispering derogatory comments about the SDPD to his partner, something about not even being able to find a donut shop . Leland leaned over and glared at him. Shut the hell up! he growled, then he turned his attention back to Captain Brown. The two men glared at Stottlemeyer, but they did as they were told and remained quiet.   
  
Brown turned on the overhead projector, then he opened up the first case file and pulled out a set of crime scene photos. We've had eight murders like this in just one year, he continued, placing the picture on the projector's viewing surface, but we still don't have any real leads. The killer vacuums the crime scene to remove trace evidence. Stottlemeyer's heart skipped a beat - there, on the screen, was a nearly perfect recreation of the Hopkins murder. The woman's naked body was positioned _exactly_ the same way! And the white nylon ropes used to bind her hands and feet had been tied with the same distinctive knots. Stottlemeyer had his case. Then Captain Brown went on to show the photos from the other seven murders. Each victim was positioned in a different pose, but the same rope and knots were used in every case. And every time he killed someone, he took something that had belonged to that victim, then left it in a prominent place at the scene of his next crime for the police to find. He usually left it sitting on top of the victim's folded clothes. The last victim's name was Jenna Rowland.  
  
After he was finished, Captain Brown gathered up his case files and returned to his seat. A few other officers presented their own unsolved cases, and then the house lights came up, signaling the end of the conference. The officers that had presented cases milled around in front of the stage, making sure everyone could see them, hoping some of their comrades would approach them to swap information. Everyone seemed to be avoiding them. Stottlemeyer made his way through the crowd and approached Downtown Brown.  
  
Captain Brown! He looked at Leland, surprised, then somewhat relieved, to see someone actually speaking to him. Stottlemeyer shook his hand. I'm Captain Leland Stottlemeyer, San Francisco P.D.   
  
Hey, Captain. How's it going up there?  
  
Stottlemeyer arched his bushy eyebrow, then held up one of the pictures from the Hopkins crime scene. We found Jenna's cameo.  
  
  
  
  
Captain Stottlemeyer sat in a chair in Captain Brown's hotel room, looking through the files of the previous murders in San Diego. Brown offered Stottlemeyer a bottled beer from the mini fridge.  
  
He took the beer and swigged some. Brown sat down on the bed and started working on a beer of his own. Leland exhaled, then set the files on the table, and leaned back in his chair. Jesus. We have got to catch this guy.  
  
Christ, tell me about it! I've been trying like hell to get something - _anything - _going down in my town! It's been so damn frustrating! My predecessor, Captain Nolan, was just two years shy of retirement. He didn't want to go out with everyone knowing a serial killer was loose on the streets, so he just swept it under the rug. He refused to even admit that the murders were related. He mothballed the investigation when the leads dried up, leaned on the press to keep it out of the news, and just started counting the days until retirement. He wouldn't even let me put it up on the state database. But then, he flashed a huge smile and raised his beer, my brother became the Deputy Mayor!  
  
Stottlemeyer laughed. Son of a bitch!  
  
The mayor was not happy when he found out what Nolan did. He was out on his ass in a heartbeat! I replaced him about a month ago. And damn it, I will catch that bastard if it's the last thing I ever do!  
  
Well, at least you have a friend in the Mayor's office. Must be pretty sweet.  
  
Brown took another drink of his beer. Yeah, it can be. The mayor himself told me I have his full support. Do whatever it takes, no matter the cost, just get the guy.  
  
Whatever it takes?  
  
  
  
Stottlemeyer laughed. Well, now I _know_ I can help you! He downed the rest of his beer. Hey Town, you ever work with a private consultant?  
  
Now it was Brown's turn to laugh. Hell yeah, as a matter of fact, two of my best friends are P.I.'s.  
  
Well, he's not exactly a Private Investigator in the traditional sense, but I do know someone that can help you. His name is Adrian Monk, and he's been working with us on the Hopkins case.  
  
Brown looked surprised. You know MONK?!  
  
Sure do.  
  
Yeah, I've heard of him. We could really use him right now. Could you give him a call?  
  
Stottlemeyer pulled his cell phone off his belt and dialed a number, and Brown watch with anticipation as Leland spoke to someone on the other end. Hey Sharona, lemmie talk to him. Yes, it's a job......hey Monk! Looks like you were right, our boy has been busy down in San Diego. The San Diego P.D. wants to hire you, cause they can't catch him either. Leland paused for a moment. Well hurry up and get packed.....what? Well, how fast can you get down there then? He was starting to look frustrated.  
  
Here, let me talk to him. Leland handed the phone to Brown. In an authoritative voice, he said Mr. Monk, this is Captain Brown of the San Diego Police Department. If you are in my office in San Diego within twenty-four hours from now, I will pay you _double _your usual rate! There was a commotion on the other end of the line, then suddenly he heard a woman's voice state firmly, He'll be there!, *click* He handed the phone back to Leland. Well, they're on their way.  
  
Stottlemeyer put the phone back on his belt, then went over to the mini fridge to get more beer. I suppose I should brief you about Monk, just so you know what to expect when he arrives. He returned to his seat, popped open two bottles, and handed one to Brown. Have another beer Captain, this is gonna take a while.  
  
  
  



	3. Monk in San Diego

DISCLAIMER: Rating - PG13 (it's a murder mystery after all), for a little cussing & swearing and a body count. and Simon & Simon are not owned by me, they are owned by USA Network and CBS. This is just a stupid fan fiction and I won't make any money off of it. ENJOY!  
  
  
  
Adrian and Sharona ascended the stairs in front of the San Diego Police Department. Even though they had been on the road since 5 am that morning, Sharona seemed to be in a very good mood. As they walked, Adrian touched the poles supporting the handrail alongside the stairs and asked, Why are you so happy today? I thought you would be in a bad mood after driving all the way from San Francisco.  
  
Adrian, I'm happy because they're paying us _double_! That means I can finally take Benjie to the dentist! She laughed, then added sarcastically, Hey, wanna move to San Diego?  
  
No, not really he answered, completely missing the joke.  
  
They reached the top of the stairs, opened the large glass doors, and went inside. They approached the desk sergeant, a blonde man with a mustache who looked to be in his late 50's. Sharona noted his name tag and said Sergeant Nixon, Sharona Fleming and Adrian Monk. We're here to see Captain Brown.  
  
Follow me Ms. Fleming, Captain's waiting for you. Sergeant Nixon led them through the station until they arrived at Brown's office. He knocked on the door, then opened it and peered inside. Your consultant from San Francisco has arrived, Captain.   
  
Captain Brown emerged and greeted them with a wide smile. You must me Mr. Monk! And Ms. Fleming? They exchanged handshakes, and Brown ushered them into his office. Sharona handed Monk a wipe before she sat down, and he stood casually cleaning his hands as Brown took his seat behind the desk. Brown asked, Do you have your contract? Sharona handed him a red folder. Brown opened it up, scanned the document for a few seconds, then quickly signed it and handed it back to Sharona. You're hired!  
  
You aren't even going to read it? she asked with amazement.  
  
Ms. Fleming -   
  
Oh please, just call me Sharona! she said, giving him a warm smile. She was really going to enjoy working with Captain Brown.   
  
Ok, Sharona, he continued, We're in a real bind here, and we could sure use your help. I'm not worried about the cost. If we catch this bastard, it'll be worth every penny spent. He turned to face Adrian, and watched as he wiped off his chair before sitting down. Captain Stottlemeyer told me all about you, Mr. Monk. Hopefully you won't be too uncomfortable working down here in San Diego. He handed Sharona two hotel reservation slips. We've already reserved two rooms for you at the Hilton a couple of blocks from here, and we gave them specific instructions to clean absolutely everything before you check in - even the bedspreads. He smiled at Monk, who had started to arrange items on the desk in an orderly fashion. You should feel right at home!  
  
Sharona and Adrian glanced at each other in surprise, and Adrian actually smiled. Sharona's good mood was apparently rubbing off on him. He put down the Captain's paper weight, shrugged his shoulders, and said Sounds great, Captain! Let's get started!  
  
Captain Brown held up his hand. Hold on Monk, we're still waiting for someone.  
  
Monk's smile faded into a look of concern. Someone else? You mean, you hired another private consultant?   
  
Calm down, Mr. Monk. Captain Stottlemeyer said that our perpetrator is trying to kill you before you catch him. Correct?  
  
Adrian shrugged. Well, yeah.....  
  
Well that's not going to happen on my watch. I didn't haul your happy butt down here all the way from San Francisco just to watch you get snuffed.   
  
A knock at the door interrupted him, and sergeant Nixon poked his head in the door. Captain, they're here.   
  
Send them in, Nixon!   
  
Brown stood up and moved around to the front of his desk. Two men approached the door to the office, and they immediately greeted Captain Brown with a cheerful chorus of Hey, Town! The first man, around 45 years of age, was very neat and well-groomed in appearance. He was about 5'10 with short blonde hair and muscular build, and wore a navy blue blazer with a light blue dress shirt, burgundy silk tie, gray slacks, and black dress shoes. He raised his arm and gave a friendly wave to Captain Brown as he came through the door, and Adrian immediately noticed the nickel plated .357 magnum in it's holster on his right hip.   
  
The man that followed him could not have looked more different. He was tall and thin, a few years older than his companion, with short brown hair and a mustache. He wore an off-white cowboy hat, and tan hunter's coat that he left unbuttoned. The coat had a brown suede patch on the right shoulder, with the cuffs rolled up and held in place by straps that buttoned onto the outside of the sleeves. Underneath the coat he wore a bright red hawaiian shirt with a blue and purple flower pattern. Light blue jeans, a brown leather belt with a plain brass buckle, and brown, well-worn cowboy boots completed his somewhat mismatched ensemble. He also waved at the Captain when he entered the office, and this motion briefly exposed the black .44 magnum he carried in a shoulder holster underneath his left arm.  
  
Monk noted that, curiously, neither man wore a badge, yet they apparently knew Captain Brown quite well. The three men exchanged some friendly banter for a minute,and when they finished, the blonde newcomer nodded towards Monk and Sharona. Are they our clients?  
  
Sharona looked at Monk, and mouthed the word under her breath.  
  
Brown replied Yep, that's them. Adrian and Sharona stood up as the two men moved forward to greet them.   
  
Brown introduced them. Adrian Monk, Sharona Fleming, meet Rick, he pointed to the man in the cowboy hat, and A.J. Simon, and he pointed to the dapper blonde. The Simon brothers are local Private Investigators, and they will be providing security for you while you're here.  
  
You hired _bodyguards _for me? Adrian mused. Captain, I don't need -   
  
Hey, you can't solve this case if you're dead, Monk. Brown stated firmly. From what your Captain told me, this guy is hell-bent on taking you out. Rick and A.J. are damn good at what they do, and there's no one I trust more with your safety. They'll make sure that you, _and_ Ms. Fleming, get back to San Francisco in one piece.  
  
Brown had a point. Until now, Adrian had thought that he was the only one in the killer's sights. But after hearing the Captain question Sharona's safety, he realized that the killer might go after her in order to affect his ability to work. He couldn't function without Sharona by his side, and this simple fact placed her in harm's way. He looked at Sharona, then back at the Captain, mentally kicking himself for being so selfish, and not thinking about her. Ok - ok, Captain, you're right. He looked at Sharona, and said I'm sorry.  
  
She patted his arm. It's ok, boss.  
  
Ok Mr. Monk, let's get to work. We have all the case files ready for you in the conference room. Follow me. Brown walked out of his office, followed closely by the Simon brothers. Sharona slapped Monk's hand as he tried to move a pen holder on the desk, and with a wounded look on his face, he obediently followed Sharona out the door.   
  
Monk watched the Simon brothers, making mental notes about them as they walked with Captain Brown. A.J., his hands in his pockets, moved at a fairly brisk pace, while Rick moved across the floor with an easy stride. Adrian caught up with Sharona, and asked in a low voice, How could they be so.....so....._different_? I mean, they're supposed to be brothers, but look at A.J. He looks like a stockbroker. And Rick, he probably bought that jacket from an Army surplus store! The thought of Rick wearing clothes that had belonged to a previous owner sent a shudder through Monk.  
  
Relax Adrian, he looks a little rough, but Captain Brown trusts them. Captain Brown is the nice man who's paying us a lot of money, remember? She grabbed him by the elbow and hurried him along. Come on boss, it's time to go to work.   
  
They reached the conference room, and after the group made it's way inside, Brown closed the doors behind them. A bulletin board covered with photographs and papers stretched across one wall, and directly in front of it sat a wood table large enough to seat ten people. Sharona put her purse on the table and sat down in one of the chairs near the bulletin board. A.J. took a seat on the far side of the table, sitting with his legs crossed and his hands politely clasped together in his lap. Rick plopped down into the chair next to him, folded his hands under his arms, and propped his feet up on the table. Monk saw Rick's boots on the table, and immediately felt his stress level rising. He put his hand in front of his eyes and turned away from this terrible sight, trying desperately to concentrate on the police photos pinned to the bulletin board. He twitched his shoulder and nervously shifted his jaw.   
  
Sharona left her seat and moved next to Adrian. Ok, what's wrong?  
  
His boots! He said in a hushed voice, They're on the table.....he could have stepped in something!  
  
Ok, hang on. Sharona turned at address Rick. I'm sorry, but could you please move your feet? It's making him nervous.  
  
Rick raised his eyebrows, then looked at his brother. A.J. shot him a dirty look and scolded him. Well? Get your feet off the table. Rick obeyed, and instead leaned back in his chair and pulled his hat down over his eyes. A.J. muttered damn neanderthal under his breath.  
  
I heard that. Rick stated from under his hat.  
  
A.J. looked to Sharona for approval, and she nodded a thank you' at him. Ok Adrian, all fixed.  
  
Maybe you should clean off the table. Do you want a wipe?  
  
she whispered, forget about the damn table! We're on a job here, remember? She looked at Captain Brown, who was waiting patiently by the bulletin board. Sharona patted him on the back, and smiled. Go on, show them what you can do. She went back to her chair and sat down.  
  
Adrian took a deep breath and joined Brown in front of the board. You ready Mr. Monk? He said he was, so the Captain continued. This is the first victim, he pointed to the crime scene photos pinned to the upper left corner of the board. They're arranged in order, left to right, first victim to last, in the order they were killed. We're hoping you can spot something - anything - that we've missed, so we can break the case and catch this guy. Because so far, every lead we've pursued has been a dead end. I even sent this off to the FBI. Behavioral Science is working up a profile as we speak, but it's going to take at least a couple of weeks. He watched Monk, who was standing with his hands clasped together in front of his face. He stared at the first set of pictures, studying them closely, then slowly moved over and examined the second set. He appeared to be in a near trancelike state. Uh, Mr. Monk, are you ok? He said nothing, focusing completely on the case files displayed before him.  
  
Don't worry, Captain. Sharona reassured him, He's doing his thing'. This is how he works.  
  
Oh, ok. Brown nodded, and he sat down on the edge of the table next to Sharona to watch Monk work. Everyone waited with anticipation as Adrian carefully studied each set of pictures and their accompanying reports.   
  
Finally, after twenty minutes of this, Adrian broke his silence. He's staking out new territory.  
  
Captain Brown looked a little confused.  
  
He's staking out new territory, in San Francisco. He looked at Brown, and continued. Probably because he knows you're really looking for him now, not like your retiring Captain Nolan. He went over to Sharona and asked her for the Hopkins file from San Francisco. She produced it from her voluminous purse, and Adrian pulled out the crime scene photo that showed how the body had been arranged. Look, the Hopkins murder, it's just like this first one, he said as he pointed at the first set of photos on the board. Both bodies had been placed in exactly the same position, laying on the left side with legs and hands tied with white rope, and the hands in front of the face in a praying' position. He's telling us that he's starting over in San Francisco. If we don't catch him in time, and he kills there again, he paused and pointed to the photos from the second murder, showing a woman's naked body lying face up, feet and hands bound with the distinctive knots, her hands folded across her chest like an Egyptian mummy. I think the scene will look exactly like this.   
  
Adrian handed the photo back to Sharona, then he moved over to the left side of the bulletin board. He removed the pin holding the top photo to the board, adjusted the picture so it was perfectly straight, and pinned it into place. Do you have any more pins for this board? Captain Brown found two boxes of multicolored pushpins in a filing cabinet and handed them to Monk. Thanks Captain. He covered his hand with a wipe and took the boxes from Brown. Adrian picked a handful of red pins out of a box, and proceeded to put one red pin in each corner of the first photo. He started doing this to all the pictures lined up across the top of the bulletin board, making sure each one was perfectly straight, and exactly the same height as the picture next to it.   
  
Rick and A.J. watched, both confused and fascinated, as Monk fussed over the pictures. Rick leaned over to his brother, and asked What the hell is he doing? A.J. just shrugged his shoulders.  
  
Sharona answered the question for him. He likes to organize things, it helps him think.  
  
Monk continued voicing his observations to Captain Brown. He's proud of what he does, he _likes_ to kill. He rubbed his forehead with his index finger. That's why he leaves these objects from the previous murder, and uses the same knots, so we'll know for sure it's the same guy. He looked at Brown. He's playing with you, challenging you to catch him. He's smug and arrogant - he enjoys this game. Monk turned back to the board and began to rearrange the second row of photos, this time with white pins. And that's how we'll catch him. Everything we need to find this guy, he motioned towards all of the cases up on the board, Is right here. We just have to figure it out. That's why he was trying to kill me, he _knows_ I'll see something that everyone else has missed, and then his game will be over.  
  
Captain Brown pressed, Do you see anything yet?  
  
He shrugged his shoulder and rolled his head to one side. Not yet. But it's here.....somewhere...... His voice trailed off, and his brow furrowed in thought. Then he turned to Captain Brown, and with a look of determination in his eyes, he proclaimed I'll get him.  
  
  
  
  
  
Five hours later, Adrian Monk was still standing in front of the bulletin board, studying each case file, and everyone else was getting tired. About an hour earlier, Rick made a food run and brought back chili burgers and fries for everyone. Monk, of course, had declined to eat the messy hand-held food, and instead continued reading the files on the board while everyone else ate. Now Rick spotted a pile of uneaten french fries in front of Sharona and asked if she was going to finish them. She said no, so he gathered them up and started munching away.  
  
A.J. leaned over to Sharona and asked, How long will he do this?   
  
She looked over at Adrian, then checked her watch. Until now. She rose from her seat, moved to Adrian's side, and gently placed her hand on his arm. Adrian, it's almost seven o'clock. You've been at this for over five hours, now. We should stop for the night and go check in at our hotel.  
  
Adrian looked at her, his frustration evident. It's here, I know it is! I'm missing something!  
  
Look, how about we get a good night's sleep, and start fresh in the morning. You know you don't think as clearly when you're tired.  
  
Adrian shook his head and admitted defeat for the night. You're right. He rubbed his forehead. I am pretty tired.   
  
Captain Brown handed Sharona a stack of manilla folders. We made copies of the case files for you. Mr. Monk, if you'd like to interview anyone tomorrow, I'll be glad to set it up.  
  
Thanks, Captain. I'll probably want to talk to the neighbors and family members of the first victim, possibly visit some of the crime scenes.  
  
Got it. He turned to Rick and A.J., and said, They're staying at the Hilton a couple of blocks from here. You know where it is.  
  
Of course, Town. A.J. replied, then he looked over at Sharona and Monk. Are you two ready to go?  
  
Sharona pulled her purse over her shoulder. Yeah, we're ready.  
  
Ok, why don't you just follow us to the hotel, then. I'm parked right out front. Rick and A.J. both waved at the Captain, and said See ya, Town!  
  
Thanks, guys. And thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr. Monk. I appreciate it. He shook Monk's hand.   
  
You're welcome, Captain. He turned to Sharona. She handed him a wipe, and he cleaned his hands as they made their way to Sharona's car.   
  
Rick and A.J. had parked on the street, only a few spaces in front of where Sharona's gold Volvo wagon waited. The Simon brothers got into A.J.'s dark red, 2002 Camaro convertible. A.J. opened the driver's door and took the driver's seat, while Rick just climbed into the passenger seat through the open top. A.J. turned the key and the Camaro's giant engine roared to life. He pulled out of his parking spot, and Sharona followed him to their hotel only a few blocks away. They pulled up in front of San Diego's Hilton hotel, and Rick removed two bags from the trunk as A.J. and Sharona handed their keys to the valet.  
  
Monk approached A.J., and watched as Rick handed him a black leather bag large enough to hold a few changes of clothes. You brought your clothes? Monk looked at Sharona, then back at A.J. You're staying here?  
  
Well, yes. We can't protect you if we aren't there, Mr. Monk.  
  
Don't worry, Rick chimed in, we told Town to get you suites. There's usually a couch in the room. He smiled, and added, You'll hardly even know we're there.   
  
Monk felt panic rising in his chest. You mean, you'll be staying _in our rooms_? With us?  
  
The Simons looked at each other, then back at Monk. Did you hear what A.J. just said? Rick asked him. We can't protect you if we aren't in the same damn room.  
  
Sharona addressed him with rising impatience. They're our bodyguards, remember? They're just doing their job. She turned to Rick, and reassured him. It's ok, he'll be fine. Let's go guys, I'm tired. She grabbed Adrian by the arm and pulled him towards the hotel's main entrance. Come on, Adrian, I've been driving since 5 am, remember? I want to get some sleep before I fall over! He reluctantly followed her into the hotel, and a hotel clerk pushing the cart laden with Monk's 5 suitcases wheeled their luggage to the front desk.   
  
Rick leaned back against the counter next to Sharona while she handled the business of getting checked in. A.J. kept an eye on Monk. He was nervously wringing his hands, apparently uncomfortable in the crowded lobby, and seemed to be shrinking away from any stranger who came near him. Someone accidentally brushed his coat sleeve as they walked by, and he inched a little closer to Sharona. A.J. walked over to Adrian and tried to engage him in conversation. Mr. Monk, are you all right? You look a little nervous.  
  
Well, um, I don't - he dodged another passerby, -don't like crowds.  
  
I understand, neither do I.  
  
Adrian's sour expression brightened a bit.   
  
Yeah, really.  
  
He seemed to be loosening up a little. Um, Mr. Simon,  
  
Please, call me A.J.  
  
Mr. Sim......um, A.J., uh, he doesn't have to be in my room, does he? He was pointing at Rick, who was busy scraping something off the bottom of his boot with his pocket knife.  
  
A.J. laughed. I understand, I'll stay in your room tonight. I'll be very clean, I promise.  
He looked at his brother, who was now talking to one of the hotel managers. A small Mexican woman, obviously one of the hotel's housekeeping staff, was trying to tell the manager something in Spanish, and Rick had wandered over and offered to translate for him. After a few moments, the manager nodded and thanked Rick, who casually went back to the front desk and leaned against the counter .   
  
Look, Mr. Monk, I know Rick is a little unusual, but I'll vouch for him. he glanced back at his brother again, Despite his appearance, he's a good guy.  
  
His belt.  
  
  
  
The belt, on the back of his jacket. Monk pointed at Rick, who had turned around and was speaking to Sharona. She appeared to be laughing at whatever he was saying. His hunter's jacket had a belt across the back at the waist. It's not buckled, he just tied it in a knot! And it's not even tied in the center, it's uneven. How can he stand to leave it like that?  
  
Relax, I'll take care of it. A.J. walked over to his brother and ordered him to hold still.  
  
He looked back at A.J., who was fiddling with his coat. What the hell are you doing?  
  
Your belt is crooked, and it's upsetting our client. Just shut up and be still. A.J. untied the belt, and Rick scowled but waited patiently as he slid the straps through the buckle, and centered it in the back. While he adjusted Rick's imperfect belt, A.J. asked, What was all the fuss about? That cleaning lady seemed pretty upset.  
  
Rick looked over his shoulder at his brother. Something about someone stealing her key.  
  
What key?  
  
Hell if I know, all I did was translate for a few seconds.   
  
Sharona noticed A.J. fixing Rick's coat and laughed. Well, one less thing I have to do! Come on Adrian, we're done. Let's go.   
  
A.J. took the luggage cart from the bellhop, deciding he wanted as few people as possible to see which rooms they were in, and they went up in the elevator. Adrian pressed himself against the back wall of the elevator, and as soon as the doors opened on their floor he rushed out into the hallway. A.J. went next with their bags, telling Monk to stay behind him, and pushed the cart down the hall in front of him, leading the way to their rooms. Sharona pulled on Adrian's arm and scolded him for being impatient, and Rick brought up the rear.   
  
Ok, this is my room. Adrian, She handed him one of the electronic room keys, Here's your key, you're right next door.   
  
A.J. left the luggage and turned around to watch Monk, who was standing a few feet away from Sharona on her left. He was busy cleaning his key with a wipe. Rick was standing to Sharona's right, watching as she fumbled with her room key.  
  
Hey Monk, Rick asked, already knowing the answer to his question. Who ya want in your room tonight? Me or A.J.?  
  
Um, neither, actually. But, he pointed back over his shoulder at A.J., I guess....he's ok.  
  
Rick laughed as Sharona unlocked the door. You hear that, A.J.? You're.......  
Sharona had opened the door just a few inches when something caught Rick's well-trained eye.   
  
SHARONA STOP!   
  
Rick quickly grabbed her right arm and yanked her towards him. He pulled Sharona down the hallway, making sure she was behind him and out of the doorway. A.J. grabbed Adrian's left arm and moved in front of him, his .357 already in his hand. Rick put his back flat against the wall and drew his gun as well. Rick placed his ear against the wall for a few seconds and listened. Hearing nothing, he motioned for A.J. to stay low and join him on the other side of the doorway. A.J. ordered Monk to stay where he was, then he crawled to the other side of the door and took up a position behind his brother.   
  
What is it, Rick?  
  
A.J., you see what I see? Rick was looking at something through the narrow opening in the doorway.  
  
Oh yeah, I see it.   
  
Fortunately for Sharona, Rick saw the rope. The bathroom door in her hotel room had been left wide open, and Rick's sharp eye caught sight of the rope in the bathroom's mirror, giving him just enough warning to pull her away from the door before she opened it too far and set off the trap. Rick holstered his gun and pulled a telescopic corner peeper' from inside his jacket, a small device with an eyepiece on one end and an angled mirror on the other, enabling the viewer to look around corners. He crawled over to Monk's side of the door, lay down on the carpet, and used the device to look inside the room. After a few seconds, he said No one inside. Let's disable this thing.  
  
A.J. joined Rick on the other side of the door. He held the door's handle still while Rick reached in and cut the rope with his knife. They both stood up, and Rick carefully opened the door wide, being mindful to stand to the side. Nothing happened. A.J. told Monk and Sharona to stay where they were, then Rick pulled his gun and the brothers went to clear the room. After about a minute, A.J. poked his head outside the room and said Room's clear, you can come in now.  
  
Monk ran over to Sharona and asked her if she was ok. Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little sore spot on my arm where he grabbed me, that's all. she said, rubbing her arm. As they entered her room, they finally saw what made Rick and A.J. act so defensively. Someone had tied one end of a white nylon rope to the door handle inside Sharona's room. The other end of the rope was attached to the trigger of a sawed-off, double barrel 12 gage shotgun that had been fixed to the back of a chair with silver duck tape. The gun was pointed directly at the door, with the rope rigged to pull the trigger when the door swung open. If Rick hadn't stopped her, Sharona would have opened the door and received a shotgun blast to the chest.  
  
Sharona put her hands to her face. Oh my God.... She felt her knees go weak, and she started to sink to the floor.   
  
Adrian quickly slid his hands underneath her arms to support her. It's ok, you're all right! A.J moved to her side and helped Adrian hold her up until her legs regained their strength.   
  
Oh my God, I could have been killed! A.J. and Adrian helped her to the couch so she could sit down. Monk sat beside her. Sharona started shaking. She was obviously very upset, so Monk put his hand on her arm and tried to comfort her. To his surprise, she buried her face against his shoulder and clung to the front of his jacket. Adrian put his arm around her and patted her back, trying to calm her down, as she had done with him on countless occasions.  
  
Rick pulled drew his gun again, and firmly told Adrian and Sharona Stay here. He looked at A.J., who also drew his weapon. Come on, A.J., let's go check out Monk's room. He smiled. Bet you a hundred bucks that we find a little surprise waiting for him, too.


	4. To AJ's House We Go!

Captain Brown stood in Sharona's hotel room, directing the actions of the crime scene unit, and talking on a cell phone. Hey, check for fingerprints on the underside of that tape! he barked at one of his forensic technicians, then resumed his telephone conversation. Adrian and A.J. were standing next to him, while Sharona sat on the couch sipping from the glass of water A.J. had given her earlier. Rick was sitting to her right, casually perched on the back of the couch with his boots on the seat cushions.   
  
Brown handed his cell phone to Monk, and said Captain Stottlemeyer wants to speak with you.  
  
Adrian pulled a wipe out of his pocket and covered his hand when he took the phone. He was careful not to let the phone touch his face as he spoke.   
  
Captain Stottlemeyer's voice came over the phone. Don't worry Monk, I took care of it. Benjie and Gail are now under police protection. If he comes after them, he'll get busted.  
  
Adrian breathed a sigh of relief. Thank you, Captain. Any luck with the 911 tape?  
  
Nope. This is one crafty son of a bitch, Monk. Turns out, it's not even his voice on the tape. He paid some eighteen year old kid walking through the neighborhood a hundred bucks to make the call for him. He even got the kid to use his own cell phone, so even if we could trace the call, it wouldn't lead to him.  
  
What about video surveillance footage from the gas station where he abandoned that car? Did it show anything?  
  
Unfortunately, the station owner is too damn cheap to fix anything. Their outside camera hasn't worked for six months. We've got nothing.  
  
Monk shook his head. No wonder Captain Brown has been so frustrated with this case.  
  
You'll get him, Monk, keep working on it. Anyway, put Town back on, I need to talk to him again.   
  
He handed the phone back to Brown, and moved over to the couch to sit in the open seat next to Sharona.   
  
With a worried look on her face, she asked Adrian, What did the Captain say about Benjie? Is he ok?  
  
Don't worry, he's taking care of Benjie and Gail. He has officers watching them twenty-four hours a day. Sharona looked relieved. Adrian wanted to ask her how she felt about what had just happened, but he was afraid he would upset her again. It had taken her nearly ten minutes to calm down after she realized just how close she had come to getting killed. To make matters worse, Rick and A.J. found the same trap waiting for Monk in his room as well, and it was now clear that their adversary had raised his game to a new level. He didn't care which one of them he killed, he just wanted Monk out of the picture. So, Adrian sat next to Sharona, fidgeting with the wedding band on his finger, trying to think of something to say. He watched Sharona take another sip of water.  
  
Um, so....... he fumbled, his mind a total blank, how.........how's your water?  
  
Sharona gave him a puzzled look, then slowly smiled, and began to laugh. Adrian, that has to be one of the _dumbest_ things anyone has ever said to me.  
  
I'm sorry, I just -   
  
It's ok, Adrian, I'm fine. She could clearly see the look of concern etched on his face.  
  
He turned to face her. Sharona, are you sure you want to go through with this? I mean, you could go back to San Francisco if you want.  
  
And leave you here? Alone? I don't think so! You'd be a wreck!  
  
Well, yeah, but, I think....I think I could handle it. He was a terrible liar, and he knew Sharona could tell he wasn't telling the truth. He _would_ be a total basket case without her. But he felt awful that she was now in danger because of him, and he just wanted to protect her.  
  
she said softly, putting her hand on his arm, thank you. I know what you're trying to do, and I really appreciate it. But you said yourself that this guy is just getting started in San Francisco, right? He nodded silently. Well, that means if we don't catch him now, he's just going to come after us again when we go home. I wouldn't be any safer there than I am here. She looked up at Rick, who was busy chewing on an unlit cigar. Besides, at least here, we have someone looking out for us. Stottlemeyer can't keep up the police protection forever.  
  
Adrian looked down at his polished shoes. I just don't want you to get hurt.  
  
Don't worry, I can handle it. Just catch this guy, ok?  
  
There were times when Adrian truly admired Sharona's strength.   
  
A.J. and Captain Brown approached the group on the couch, and Captain Brown knelt on the floor in front of Sharona. You ok?  
  
I'm good.  
  
The Captain stood up again, and the look on his face turned serious. This is _not_ good.  
  
Rick momentarily stopped chewing on his cigar. Hey Town, how the hell did this guy even know they were here?  
  
Then A.J. added, How did he know _which rooms_ they were staying in?  
  
The Captain sighed. Well, we did ask the hotel to make advanced preparations for Mr. Monk, and that means they had to assign rooms to you in advance. The room numbers were on the reservation slips I gave to Sharona.  
  
Sharona thought for a second, and said Maybe he works for the hotel?  
  
Or maybe, Town replied, he's been watching the computerized records of hotel reservations in the area. I reserved your rooms last night, which gave him plenty of time to set this up.  
  
The Simon brothers gasped in mock surprise. No, ya think? Rick joked.  
  
Brown glared at Rick. Oh shut up. My question is, how did he get into your rooms? There was no sign of forced entry, and you can't just pick the electronic lock on the door.  
  
Adrian provided the answer. He used the maid's key. Everyone looked at Monk. In the lobby, Rick was talking to one of the maids, who was complaining about someone stealing her key. They give the housekeeping staff a master key that will open every room in the hotel, so they can clean when the guests are away. He must have taken the key from her cleaning cart and used it to gain access to our rooms.  
  
A.J., Rick, and Captain Brown exchanged looks of surprise. Um, I was about to say that. Rick said as he continued chewing on his cigar.  
  
Brown scratched his jaw, then turned to A.J. Ok guys, you'd better get them out of here. And don't tell anyone where you're taking them.  
  
Rick and A.J. answered in unison. Got it., then Rick jumped off the couch and followed A.J., who was already walking towards the door. Rick turned to Monk and Sharona. Come on guys, let's go, and they followed the Simon brothers out of the room.  
  
Where are we going? Monk asked.  
  
Rick looked back at Monk. You'll find out when we get there.  
  
  
  
  
  
Adrian stood on the sidewalk, fidgeting with the buttons on his long brown coat, and stared down at the passenger seat of A.J.'s Camaro. The Simon brothers decided that the killer might recognize Sharona's car, so they insisted they leave her Volvo at the hotel and take A.J.'s vehicle instead.  
  
They had to put the removable hard top back on the car to make room in the trunk for Monk and Sharona's luggage, which turned out to be a good thing, because Adrian Monk would not ride in a topless vehicle. He did not want all that dirty air' blowing in his face. Now he was questioning whether or not the hard top was secure. He was worried it would fly off while driving, or that the seal wasn't air tight.  
  
Mr. Monk, A.J. said, in an attempt to reassure him, I've been driving this car for a year now, and I can assure you, the seal is air tight, and the top will stay on.  
  
Even at highway speeds?  
  
Even at highway speeds. I drive on the highway every day.  
  
Come on, Adrian! Sharona called from the back seat, where she sat with Rick. Get in the damn car!  
  
Can I have a wipe? I need a wipe. Sharona's hand materialized from the back seat and handed him the wipe. He spent five minutes cleaning the seat and the interior of the passenger door before carefully lowering himself into the car. Then he took another two minutes adjusting his seat belt. Finally, he looked over at A.J. he said tentatively, ready to go. I guess....  
  
A.J. pulled out of the hotel's main driveway and into traffic, making sure he drove as cautiously as possible so he wouldn't upset Adrian too much. After about fifteen minutes of driving, Sharona asked So where are we going? Another hotel?  
  
A.J. answered her from the front seat. My house, where we can keep an eye on you two. Don't worry, it's safe. We'll make sure you're comfortable. A.J. realized that Monk had not said a word since they left the hotel. He looked over to check on his passenger and saw that Adrian had his eyes tightly squeezed shut and his lips clamped together. He looked anything but comfortable.   
  
A.J. pulled into the small residential parking area across from his house. He usually parked in his driveway, but Rick's huge, customized, Dodge Ram pickup truck, he called it the Power Wagon', was already in the driveway taking all the space. So A.J. was forced to park in the lot next to the canal that ran parallel to the back of his house. Rick and A.J. grabbed the suitcases and led their guests toward a large, two-story waterfront house with wood shingle siding, and a deck adorned with patio furniture in the back that sat right over the canal. They were approaching a wooden pedestrian bridge, about six feet wide with white hand rails on both sides, that arched over the canal and led to A.J.'s house. The Simons, laden with Monk's baggage, crossed over the bridge, and Sharona followed suit. After they reached the other side, Sharona turned around to say something to Adrian. He was still standing on the other side of the bridge. He looked down at the water in the canal, then back up at Sharona.  
  
She sighed, and swore under her breath. She turned around again to see Rick and A.J. looking at Monk, wondering why he was just standing there. Hey guys? Could you go ahead and take the bags inside? This might take a while. She turned around and went back across the bridge to collect Monk.  
  
Rick leaned over to A.J. and asked, What the hell is he doing?  
  
Don't know. They set the bags on the ground and watched in curiosity.  
  
Sharona reached Adrian's side and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. The expression on his face showed a mixture of helplessness and fear. He looked at her, then at the water under the bridge, then back at her again. Sharona knew this wasn't going to be easy.  
  
Come on Adrian, you can do it. It's just a little bridge.  
  
But there's water. He pointed at the canal. Under the bridge. It's a pretty long drop to the canal, too.   
  
Adrian, you can do this.  
  
He looked at the bridge again, then at the Simon Brothers on the other side. They were both standing there, watching intently. Adrian felt pangs of embarrassment course through him. Suffering through the anxiety attacks over something as trivial as this was bad enough, but he felt even worse when it happened in front of someone. He decided to put on a brave face and give it a try. He looked down at the perilous bridge one more time, and mustered enough courage to mutter a weak to Sharona.  
  
She slid her right arm underneath his left, took his hand in hers, and slowly guided him onto the bridge. She spoke to him in a soothing voice, trying to encourage him. You're doing great, Adrian. Keep going, just keep going.... He squeezed his eyes shut as he clung to her in desperation and fear. Despite his rising panic, he was still moving forward, step by careful step. Take deep breaths, Adrian. Just relax and keep going, you're doing great! I'm right here....   
  
Rick and A.J. watched the scene in utter disbelief. Town had given them a copy of the file on Monk that Captain Stottlemeyer had faxed in, and they knew that he had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. But after watching him touch lamps and organize things at the police station, they had no reason to think it was that bad. They assumed that Monk had improved to the point where he could function in a relatively normal, but slightly odd, fashion. But now, as they witnessed how extremely difficult this simple task was for him, they realized that his problem was much more serious than they thought. The Simon brothers were getting a crash course in just how crippling OCD could be. Adrian Monk was utterly dependent on Sharona, his nurse as well as his friend, and the scene unfolding before them proved that he simply could not function without her by his side.   
  
A.J. stood with his mouth agape. Jesus, Rick. Look at him.....  
  
Rick just shook his head, suddenly feeling a wave of sympathy come over him. Aww A.J., I've gotta put a stop to this. He headed for the bridge.  
  
Suspicious, A.J. grabbed him by the arm and stopped him from going any farther. Wait a minute, what are you going to do?  
  
Rick looked at A.J., then shrugged his shoulders. Nothing much, he said innocently, thought I'd just knock him out and carry him over the bridge.  
  
You WHAT? Oh no you're not!  
  
Yeah, a quick sleeper hold, he goes out like a light, wakes up on the other side of the bridge. No big deal.  
  
A.J. glared at his brother with seething anger. Rick Simon, you have just hit a new low. If you try to execute your half-baked idea, I will shoot you!  
  
Oh come on, A.J.! he pleaded, I can't just stand here and watch the guy suffer like that! I mean, look at him. They both turned to check on Monk's progress. He was still clinging to Sharona, but despite looking absolutely terrified, he was moving forward. He's not even halfway across the damn bridge!   
  
Well this is _your_ damn fault, you know. If you didn't park that monstrosity of a truck in my driveway, I wouldn't have had to park on the other side of the canal!  
  
Rick and A.J. once again turned their attention to the bridge, watching their clients slowly make their way across. The brothers suddenly felt very self-conscious about watching them, as if they were pedestrians lingering around a bad car wreck hoping to catch a glimpse of the injured victims. Rick gathered some of the suitcases under his arms. I can't watch this anymore, A.J. Why don't you stay here, in case they need any help. He started toward the house with their luggage. A.J. tried to figure out the polite way to handle such an awkward situation, and settled on just turning away, trying to act casual, and watching Rick take their bags inside.   
  
After ten minutes of Sharona's gentle coaxing and persistent encouragement, Adrian finally made it across the bridge. He was out of breath, and beads of sweat shone on his forehead and upper lip. Sharona handed him a wipe. He wiped the sweat from his face and collected himself. Adrian looked exhausted.  
  
Sharona patted him on the back. You see, Adrian? I knew you could do it. I am so proud of you! You did it!  
  
Adrian finished wiping his face, then turned to face A.J.'s house. He saw the driveway, with Rick's truck monopolizing it's entire space, and realized that if they had parked there, he would not have needed to go over the bridge to get to the house. He looked at A.J., and pointed at the driveway. In a meek voice, he said Um, d-do - do you think......we could park over there, next time?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It was just after 10 pm., and everyone waited while Sharona went upstairs and prepared A.J.'s master bedroom for Monk. Sharona thought he would be most comfortable in the master bedroom because it had a separate bathroom that only Adrian would be using. A.J. had offered to help her clean up, but she insisted on doing it herself. If A.J. cleaned the room, Adrian would declare his efforts inadequate, and if she let him clean his own room, he would be working on it for hours, and no one would get any sleep. So she decided it would be best for everyone if she did it herself.   
  
A.J. sat on one end of his beige couch, drinking a cup of hot tea. Rick sat next to his brother, with his boots on the coffee table and his arms folded across his chest. they both watched Adrian as he wandered around the room, closely scrutinizing everything he came across. He had already counted the number of books in A.J.'s bookshelves, and was now looking at the framed family pictures that were displayed on various surfaces about the living room.   
  
A.J. leaned over to Rick, and spoke in a hushed voice. Do you really think he can solve this case? I mean, I know Town spoke highly of him, and the San Francisco cops think he can damn near walk on water. But, after that little episode' on the bridge, I don't know if he's even capable of working, much less solving a complicated case like this one.  
  
Just hang on, A.J. A few minutes ago, I would have agreed with you. But now.....just look at him. Rick watched with great interest as Adrian moved about the room examining everything in sight. He wandered over to a sturdy set of floor-length, built-in cabinets on the far left side of the living room. This guy's a lot smarter than you think. Look at his eyes, A.J., he's not missing anything. They continued to observe as Adrian pulled a silver pen from inside his jacket. He used the pen to gently tap on the cabinet on the left, then he ran his hand all around the edges, leaned in close to peer underneath the shelf attached to the right side of the cabinet, and spotted the very well-hidden combination lock.  
  
A.J. couldn't believe what he was seeing. Holy shit!  
  
Rick looked at his brother, and grinned. He just found your secret gun safe. He chuckled. You still think he can't solve a case?   
  
I stand corrected!  
  
Sharona finally emerged from the stairs leading to the bedrooms. Ok Adrian, all done. The room's ready.  
  
He crossed the room to stand next to her. Is it clean?  
  
Sparkling. Can we please go to bed now? I'm really tired.  
  
You aren't going to clean your guest room?  
  
She regarded him with rising impatience. It's clean enough! Come on, Adrian, go to bed. I know I am. She went over to the couch to thank their host. Thanks for letting us stay here, A.J.   
  
No problem, you're both more than welcome to stay here. If you need anything, we'll be sleeping out here on the couches. Goodnight.  
  
Goodnight guys. She started up the stairs.  
  
Adrian started to follow her, but suddenly he stopped, turned around, walked back to the couch, and stood in front of them. A.J. and Rick looked up at him. It was obvious he wanted to say something, but for some reason he was hesitant to speak. A.J. decided to break the awkward silence. Mr. Monk, is there something you want to say?  
  
He looked nervous. Um, I'm not very good at this, but.... His gaze wandered about the room, but finally settled on the two men seated before him. I'm sorry about your mother.  
  
Rick and A.J. looked at each other in shock. They couldn't believe what they just heard. Rick sat up, wondering what Adrian was going to say next. What about our mother, Monk?  
  
Well, she died very recently. He paused for a moment, then continued. It must be hard for you. I'm sure you were both very close to her, especially after losing your father at such an early age......  
  
A.J.'s jaw dropped open. But, I....well.....how did you know all that?  
  
You have twenty-four family photos on display, showing you two, and this woman that is obviously your mother. But almost all of these pictures around the room are new, about a week old. I saw the receipt for the frames in the kitchen trash can, you bought them a week ago. So that means you just put them up. Usually people gradually add one or two photos at a time to their home, but you added twenty at the same time. The only reason why someone would suddenly choose to display so many photographs of a single loved one is because that person has just passed away.  
  
And Dad?  
  
Well, three of these photos are about forty years old,and they show you two as children, your mother, and this man here. He's obviously your father. He pointed to one of the older photographs, and singled out a man that looked remarkably like A.J. But he doesn't appear in any other pictures. He's only in these three, very old photos. If your father had lived well past the time when these three pictures were taken, you would have at least one picture of him that's more recent than these here.  
  
Neither Rick nor A.J. said anything.  
  
So, I'm, um.....sorry about your mother. He paused, then wished them goodnight, and went upstairs to his room.  
  
Rick and A.J. sat on the couch in stunned silence for several minutes. Eventually, A.J. slowly turned his head and looked at Rick, who appeared to be just as shocked and amazed as he was. All A.J. could say was,   
  
Rick sighed, pushed his hat back, pulled a cigar from inside his jacket, and started chewing on it. I'll take first watch. Get some sleep, A.J.


	5. Rick's Place

DISCLAIMER: Rating - PG13 (it's a murder mystery after all), for a little cussing & swearing and a body count. and Simon & Simon are not owned by me, they are owned by USA Network and CBS. This is just a stupid fan fiction and I won't make any money off of it.   
  
  
  
  
  
Adrian Monk emerged from his room at precisely 9 am. He was in a good mood and felt energized, because he was excited about taking a fresh look at the case. He was determined to find a new lead today. Adrian buttoned the collar on his perfectly pressed, off-white, long sleeve dress shirt as he walked with a spring in his step.   
  
Adrian wondered where Sharona was. She was not in her room, so he had assumed that she must have gone downstairs for breakfast. But when he entered the living room, he realized that Sharona was not there, either. Maybe she was out on the patio working on her tan? As Adrian looked around the living room, he spied Rick lying on the nearest couch with his cowboy hat pulled down over his eyes. He was wearing a green hunter's jacket over a red button down shirt today. Monk adjusted his shirt sleeves and asked the lounging Rick, Where's Sharona?  
  
Rick answered from underneath his hat. She and A.J. went shopping.  
  
Monk stopped in the middle of the living room, his bright demeanor instantly replaced by a look of uncertainty. She's not here?  
  
Rick pushed his hat back on his head and looked up at Monk. No, she went shopping. She and A.J. went to the store, said something about having to get your food.  
  
Adrian continued to look around the room, as if Sharona might suddenly materialize in front of him. Rick thought he looked like a lost puppy trying to find it's owner. He realized he should say something to reassure Monk that he had not been abandoned for the day. She made you breakfast. Monk's face brightened a bit. It's in there, on the kitchen counter.  
  
Adrian touched all the lamps in the living room, then wandered into the kitchen and saw the foil-covered plates that contained his breakfast sitting on the kitchen counter where Sharona had left them. He also found the pot of tea she had left on the stove for him, but evidently Sharona forgot to provide a clean mug to go with it. When he turned to exit the kitchen so he could ask Rick for a mug, he spotted the stained glass window in the front door that opened into A.J.'s kitchen. The window was a compilation of brightly colored glass squares set into the pane in vertical strips. Adrian paused and touched the window before walking over to the couch where Rick lay.   
  
Rick looked up at Monk, who just stood there, shifting from foot to foot. He obviously wanted something. Rick inquired impatiently.  
  
Um, I need a mug. He pointed back towards the kitchen. For my tea.  
  
Aah, ok. One mug coming up. Rick hopped up from the couch and strode into the kitchen. As Monk walked behind Rick, he noticed that, as usual, the belt on the back of his jacket was loosely tied instead of buckled. Adrian rubbed his forehead and tried hard to ignore the sloppy, uneven knot.   
  
Adrian followed Rick into the kitchen and watched as he grabbed a blue coffee mug from one of the cabinets and held it out to him. Not only had Rick neglected to wash his hands, he grabbed the mug by the rim. Adrian made no move to take it from Rick.  
  
Rick was mystified. What? Something wrong with it?  
  
Adrian pointed at Rick's fingers. You, um, touched the rim, without washing your hands. I have to drink out of that....   
  
Ok, I can see that. I'll just get you another one. Rick put it down and grabbed another mug by the handle. He offered it to Monk, who again refused to take it. Adrian just looked at it, and began rubbing his forehead in a familiar nervous gesture. Rick sighed in frustration. He set the second mug on the counter, grabbed a clean paper towel, used the towel to grab yet another mug from the cabinet, and handed it to Monk. Adrian accepted it without hesitation and went to pour himself a cup of tea. Rick went to the kitchen bar and sat on one of the tall stools while Adrian removed the foil covering his food. Sharona had cooked his usual Friday breakfast of a cheese omelet and two slices of buttered toast. As he took his omelet and tea over to the dining table, Adrian made sure to touch the colored window in the front door as he passed by. Then he went back into the kitchen to collect his toast, touching the window on the way into the kitchen and again on his way out. Rick observed this unusual behavior, and after a few minutes of internal debate, decided he should probably just ignore it.   
  
Hey Monk, I almost forgot. Take this and make sure you put it on before we go anywhere. Rick handed Adrian a navy blue bulletproof vest.  
  
Adrian held the vest by the fingertips of his right hand and carefully examined it. No thank you.   
  
Rick was perplexed. What? Monk, there's a very bad man trying to kill you. We want you wearing a vest. Sharona's going to wear one too.  
  
But It's been used. He pointed to some stray hairs stuck in the velcro on some of the straps. Someone else has worn this.  
  
Yeah, so what. It's in great shape. There aren't any bullet holes in it or anything.  
  
Adrian held the vest at arm's length with a disgusted look on his face, almost as if he were holding a filthy rag. But.....it's been used......by someone else! I can't wear this!  
  
Just put it on, Monk.  
  
Adrian handed the vest back to Rick. Um, no thank you.  
  
Rick sighed and tried to diffuse his rising frustration. Ok, how about this. We'll get you a brand new vest, fresh out of the box. Would you wear it then?  
  
Adrian thought for a moment. Brand new?  
  
  
  
He considered Rick's offer, and finally conceded defeat.   
  
Adrian washed his hands, then sat down at the dining table and took a bite of his omelet after carefully cutting it into little squares. As soon as he began eating, he realized just how hungry he was. He had declined to participate in last night's chili burger feast, which meant he had not eaten since yesterday when he and Sharona stopped for lunch. Adrian ate at a much faster pace than usual, finishing the omelet fairly quickly, then he cut his toast into small pieces, and ate them using his fork instead of his hands. Rick tried really hard not to laugh out loud when he saw Monk eating toast with a fork.   
  
The smell of food wafting in his direction made Rick realize that he was hungry as well. He went over to the fridge, grabbed a soda and a few slices of cold pizza, and tossed the slices onto a plate. He then returned to his seat at the bar and began cramming the cold pizza into his mouth.   
  
When Monk was finished eating, he took his dirty dishes into the kitchen and started washing them. After he finished with those dishes, he grabbed the first two mugs that Rick had tried to give him earlier and cleaned them as well. Then Adrian began to rearrange everything in A.J.'s kitchen cabinets. When he finished that, he scrubbed the entire kitchen from top to bottom, even taking the time to clean the leftover bread crumbs out of the toaster. Rick just sat at the counter, casually stuffing pizza into his face, watching Monk go about his business.   
  
After he finished in the kitchen, Adrian moved on to the dining table. He wiped it down with a towel, making sure to erase every smudge and spot he could find. Then he cleaned off the bar stools at the kitchen counter. Finally, after wiping off every flat surface in sight that was not currently occupied by Rick, Adrian walked over to him and asked, Mr. Simon, do you have a vacuum?  
  
  
  
  
  
Forty minutes later, the house phone sitting on A.J.'s kitchen bar started ringing. Rick rolled off of the couch, perched himself on the stool next to the phone, and answered it. A.J.'s house. Adrian, who was sitting at the dining table going over the case files again, completely ignored him.  
  
It was A.J., calling from his cell phone. Hey Rick, Sharona wants to know if Monk found his breakfast.  
  
Yeah, he did. Tell her he ate every bit and now he's fat n' happy. By the way, you need to swing by Surplus Sammy's and pick up a different vest for Monk.  
  
Why? What's wrong with the one we gave him?  
  
As Rick was talking on the phone, Adrian got up and went to the kitchen to refill his cup of tea. Rick watched him touch the stained glass window yet again on his way to the teapot. He seemed to be drawn to that stupid window like a moth to a flame.  
  
Monk won't wear it because it's used. Said it had to be brand new. I already called Sammy's, they're holding a new one for us that's still in the bag. He said he'd wear that one.  
  
Rick noticed that Monk had stopped in front of the door. He was just standing there, staring at the colorful window, his right hand hovering in front of his face. Hang on a sec, A.J. Rick put the phone down and moved over next to Monk, regarding him with concern.   
  
He turned to look at Rick, and his face suddenly brightened.   
  
Rick raised his eyebrows.   
  
Windows! They're all in front of windows! Adrian ran back to the table and pulled out a couple of the crime scene photos. Look, at every one of these crime scenes, the killer left the body in front of a window! Even the one in San Francisco! He looked at the photos again, then frowned. I seem to be missing some of the pictures from the crime scenes. These files are incomplete.  
  
I know Town has been complaining all week that his photography department is having trouble keeping up with all the reprints he's been ordering. Guess they screwed up when putting your files together.  
  
But I need all of these pictures. Could you call Captain Brown?  
  
Don't need to. Town gave copies of all the files to me and A.J., they're back at my place.  
  
Adrian looked energized. Ok, let's go. I'll go brush my teeth and get my jacket! He ran upstairs to get ready.  
  
Rick picked up the phone again. Hey A.J., looks like we have to go to my place. Why don't you and Sharona just meet us there.  
  
  
  
  
  
Adrian followed Rick out to the driveway where his truck was parked. Rick called it the Power Wagon', but last night A.J. had laughingly referred to it as that monstrosity hogging my driveway'. It was a new, metallic gray Dodge Ram 4 x 4 pickup, with a six inch lift kit and big oversized mud tires. It had been fitted with a thick black roll bar in the cargo bed, and a giant customized front bumper made from black diamond plate steel was bolted to the frame. The bumper was so big, it looked like Rick had welded a battering ram to the front of his truck. The nose of the vehicle also had a large cage protecting the grill and headlights. Another tough diamond plate bumper in the rear, as well as the words POWER WAGON' painted in black on the side of the truck's bed, completed the ensemble. Rick opened the passenger door for Adrian, then went around to the driver's side and climbed in, and turned the key. The truck's massive engine roared with power, causing the entire vehicle shake slightly.   
  
Monk stood in the driveway, looking at the huge truck, trying to figure out how he should get in. Rick yelled over the engine noise. Come on, Monk! Let's go! Adrian pulled out some wipes and cleaned off the passenger seat, inside door handle, and the metal foot plate underneath the door before climbing up into the truck and locking the door behind him. Rick put his truck in gear, slowly backed out of the driveway and turned onto the road, heading for the marina.  
  
The drive over to Rick's place was relatively uneventful. Rick watched Monk from behind his dark aviator's sunglasses, and saw that even though he drove very carefully, Adrian had kept his hand clamped over his eyes so he would not panic while they negotiated their way through traffic. Rick was relieved when they finally reached their destination, because it meant an end to Adrian's constant refrain of Are we there yet?' They exited the Power Wagon and made their way up the path towards a marina.   
  
Adrian followed Rick, looking a little confused. Where are we going?  
  
Rick answered without looking back. To my house.  
  
Adrian looked around, assuming that they must be heading for a building somewhere on one of the marina's many piers. You live here? In a house?  
  
Yep! Rick continued leading the way with his easy stride, heading towards one of the outer docks. Both men walked in silence for quite some time. As they started down a long dock with several boats moored to either side, Rick felt a gentle tap on his right shoulder. He turned to find Adrian standing there, looking sheepish and nervously wringing his hands together. Rick was amazed that Monk had actually touched him.   
  
Hey, Rick, I just wanted to......um....... He looked away for a moment, then took a deep breath and faced Rick again. Thank you for saving Sharona's life last night. He swallowed hard, then continued. He paused for a moment as tears began to well up in his eyes. She's my best friend. Adrian looked down at his shoes, and with great sadness, he added She's my only friend.  
  
Rick knew it must have been very hard for Adrian to make such a confession. Well, believe it or not, I understand. He gave Adrian a friendly pat on the shoulder I feel the same way about my brother. And with that thought he turned around and continued walking down the dock. Adrian took a moment to collect himself, then brushed off the spot on his jacket where Rick had touched it, and followed him.  
  
They finally reached the end of the dock, and Rick hopped onto the deck of a white houseboat with gray wood siding around the main cabin that was moored to the left side of the dock. He turned around and motioned for Monk to follow him. Come on, Monk, the files are in here.  
  
Adrian remained on the dock, looking down at the gap between the boat's deck and the wooden pier. There was no plank or walkway leading to the deck of Rick's boat. To go aboard, Adrian would have to step up onto the boat through a three foot gap in the handrail that ran around the side of the deck. You live on a boat?  
  
Yeah, it's a houseboat. Come on, it'll be fun.  
  
But....this is a _boat_.  
  
Rick realized this was going to be much more difficult than he previously thought. All you have to do is step onto the deck. See? Rick stepped off the boat onto the dock, then back onto the boat. It's easy. No problem. Monk just stood there, peering down at the water through the gap. Rick sighed. Ok, how about this. He went into the boat, and emerged carrying a thick wooden plank. He put one end on the deck and rested the other end of the plank on the dock, creating a walkway for Adrian. How's that?  
  
Monk stared back at him. How do I know it won't fall off when I'm walking on it? It's not secured to anything.  
  
Rick hopped back onto the dock and regarded Monk from behind his dark sunglasses. He remembered last night's episode on the pedestrian bridge, and knew this wasn't going to be easy. Rick was seized with sudden inspiration. He looked over Monk's shoulder, and asked, Isn't that Sharona over there? When Adrian turned to look, Rick quickly grabbed him underneath the arms in a fireman's carry and dragged a very surprised Monk onto the deck of his houseboat. Rick let go of him and Adrian immediately grabbed hold of the handrail, clinging to it with a white-knuckle grip. Rick was pleased with himself. See? That wasn't so hard, was it? Come on, Monk. Help me look for the case files. They're somewhere in the cabin. He walked along the narrow pathway running down the side of the boat, which emerged onto the rear deck that was decorated with wicker patio furniture, and entered the boat's main cabin where the living quarters were located. Adrian decided that being on a boat was only made worse by being left alone on a boat, so he decided to follow Rick. He slowly made his way down the walkway, clutching the handrail as he went, and after a few desperate minutes, he joined Rick in the boat's living area.  
  
At first, Monk thought he would be glad to get off of the deck, so he would not be so close to the waves splashing against the side of the boat. But then he entered the living area and was confronted with nightmare of clutter and disorganization. Rick's living room was anything but clean. Dirty dishes and empty beer bottles were clustered on top of the coffee table. Old magazines and dirty socks were strewn about the large L-shaped sectional sofa, and various gadgets that Rick had collected over the years from Surplus Sammy's many clearance sales were crammed into several cabinets around the room. Adrian fought back his rising panic and began rubbing his forehead, desperately trying to maintain his composure.   
  
Outside in the marina, speedboat ignoring the no wake zone' signs zipped by the dock, sending large waves towards Rick's boat. The boat rocked slightly to the side as the waves hit, causing a large plastic fruit bowl to slide across the kitchen counter. Monk felt the boat move and immediately grabbed the nearest solid object, which happened to be Rick's sofa.   
  
Adrian was petrified. How can you live like this? On a boat? It _moves_! How can you stand it when your stuff slides around like that?  
  
Well Monk, he casually replied, That's why all the cabinets have latches on them. Keeps things from falling out.   
  
Adrian felt the boat stabilize and let go of the couch, still somewhat uncertain of his surroundings.  
  
Hey Monk, Rick called out cheerfully from the far side of the room, I think I found the files. Come on over here. Adrian made his way over to Rick, being careful not to step on any of the objects littered about the carpet. Rick was looking through some manilla files he had found in the closet. Naw, this isn't it. Maybe it's over here? Rick moved over to the bathroom, but not before he pulled the vacuum out of the closet and left it sitting in plain sight. He set some cleaning supplies on the bathroom counter and went back into the living room.   
  
Upon returning to the living room, Rick found that Monk had removed his suit jacket and was wearing a brand new pair of rubber dishwashing gloves he found in a kitchen drawer. He was already scurrying about the living room with a black garbage bag in hand, picking up trash. Rick crept over to the kitchen and opened the cabinet door underneath the sink, exposing the cleaning supplies stored there, then he hurried back out to the rear deck and closed the cabin doors behind him, leaving Monk inside. He strolled over to a pile of newspapers next to a large, round backed wicker chair, pulled a stack of manilla folders from underneath the newspapers, and began flipping through his copies of the case files. Rick sat down and silently congratulated himself for finding a way to clean his house without doing any work himself. He put his feet up on the round table in front of his chair, and looked out over the water. Yep, it's a beautiful day!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sharona and A.J. showed up at Rick's houseboat around noon. Sharona was wearing a loose, white, San Diego Chargers' t-shirt underneath her denim jacket instead of one of her usual tight blouses. They found Rick lounging in his favorite chair and drinking a soda on the rear deck, but Adrian was nowhere to be seen. A.J. turned to Sharona, and said Well, I see my nemesis is here. But where is Mr. Monk? Sharona just shrugged and followed A.J. onto the boat.  
  
Rick chugged his soda and looked up at them. Hey guys, have a seat! Take a load off! I'm just going over these again. He held up one of the files he was reading.   
He seemed to be pretty happy about something.   
  
Sharona looked around the boat, wondering where her boss was. She began to grow concerned. Rick, where's Adrian? He can't be here on the boat, he hates boats. The doors to the main cabin flew open, and Adrian stumbled out onto the deck. He was wearing a pair of yellow rubber kitchen gloves, and held a bottle of sanitizing spray in one hand and a pair of Rick's dirty underwear in the other. When he saw Sharona, he looked very relieved. Sharona, _thank God_ you're here!   
  
Adrian, Oh my God! You're on a boat! I don't believe it! Then she saw the rubber gloves. Adrian, what are you doing? Were you cleaning again?  
  
Monk dropped everything and clutched at her jacket sleeve. But Sharona, I _had_ to! It was so _dirty_ in there! And that bathroom, it was - it was......ohh.... Adrian put his hand to his stomach and began to feel queasy as he remembered the disgusting conditions of Rick Simon's bathroom.   
  
Sharona saw that Adrian was looking a bit nauseated, so she immediately made him sit in the nearest chair, peeled the gloves off of his hands and tossed them overboard. She sat down in the chair next to him, and pulled a bottle of water out of her purse. Here you go Adrian, have some water.   
  
Oh, no thank you. Adrian was still feeling a bit queasy.  
  
She pressed the bottle into his hand. DRINK IT.  
  
Monk obediently opened the bottle and began drinking.  
  
A.J. grabbed Rick's arm and pulled him out of his chair. He smiled sweetly at Sharona. Excuse me, I have to speak to my brother for a moment. He dragged Rick into the living room and closed the doors behind them. Damn it Rick, I cannot believe you did this! You read his file, and you _know_ he cleans things obsessively! You deliberately lured him onto this damn wreck of yours just so you could avoid doing your own housework, didn't you?  
  
Rick looked like a kid that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Well, Sharona said that cleaning stuff helps him think -   
  
You are taking advantage of a man's _mental illness_!  
  
Oh come on A.J., We had to get the case files! I figured he's gonna clean wherever we go anyway, so he might as well do it here.  
  
A.J. glared at his brother with seething anger. You are going straight to hell for this, you know. He went and joined Monk and Sharona out on the deck.   
  
Rick looked around the room, admiring Monk's handiwork. The entire living area was cleaned to perfection. Monk had even organized everything on the cluttered shelves and vacuumed the carpet. He went into the kitchen and saw that Monk had scrubbed the countertops, neatly rearranged the contents of his cabinets, and left the sink spotless. He even organized the silverware drawer. Rick ran to the bathroom and found it sparkling white.   
  
He went back out to the kitchen, thoroughly enjoying the smell of Pine Sol that hung in the air. He decided that he should do something nice for Monk in return for his showroom-clean surroundings, so he went to the refrigerator and selected a refreshingly cold root beer. Rick thought that Monk probably would not drink straight out of the bottle, so he grabbed a paper towel and opened the cabinet to retrieve a mug. He laughed when he found that Monk had even turned the handles of each mug so they all faced the same direction. He grabbed the handle of a mug with the paper towel........the mug did not move. Rick pulled a little harder, but it just would not budge. He yanked the handle with all his might, and it broke off in his hand. He looked down at the detached handle, completely bewildered. Then he noticed something in the kitchen trash can. He bent down and pulled it out of the trash. It was the empty package for the five-pack of super glue that Rick bought at Surplus Sammy's clearance sale last week. All five tubes were empty. Oh you have got to be kidding me. He couldn't have.... Rick tried to pick up another mug and found that, it, too, could not be moved. His plates would not budge, either. He opened all of his cabinets, checking everything, and found that nothing could be dislocated.   
  
Adrian Monk had glued everything in the cabinets to the shelves. He even glued the large fruit bowl to the kitchen counter.  
  
AAAHHHHHHHH! MONK!!!!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. The Interview

DISCLAIMER: Rating - PG13 (it's a murder mystery after all), for a little cussing & swearing and a body count. and Simon & Simon are not owned by me, they are owned by USA Network and CBS. This is just a stupid fan fiction and I won't make any money off of it.   
  
Hang on everybody, here we go!!!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Monk, Sharona, and A.J. sat on the rear deck of Rick's houseboat, drinking bottled water and debating about what to do with the white, plastic-wrapped bullet proof vest that sat on the table before them. I don't think I need it, Sharona. Adrian whined. Besides, how do you clean one of these things after you wear it? It's not like I can just take it to any dry cleaner.   
  
A.J. pleaded with Monk yet again. Mr. Monk, this suspect is highly resourceful, and will apparently stop at nothing to get to you. I know these vests are a bit uncomfortable to wear, but in your case, it is a necessity.  
  
Sharona scolded him, You _will_ wear this vest. You told Rick that you'd wear a brand new one, and A.J. went through a lot of trouble to get this for you. Come on, Adrian. I'm wearing mine, it's not that bad. She pulled open the collar of her new t-shirt to reveal the navy blue protective vest underneath. She had purchased several cheap shirts that morning because the vest would not fit underneath her usual tight apparel. Besides, you know I won't stop pestering you about this.  
  
Monk picked up the vest and examined it again. It was a different model than the one Sharona was wearing. Hers was the typical standard police issue, constructed from many layers of tightly woven kevlar fabric. But the one A.J. bought for Monk was a much better, and probably more expensive design. He got this one because it was the only vest in Adrian's size that was still in the factory plastic. Not only was it made of kevlar, but it also contained large steel trauma plates' in front and back, providing extra protection for the vital chest region. Adrian turned the vest over in his hands, scrutinizing it closely, and finally acknowledged defeat in the war against Sharona's stubbornness. Ok, I'll wear it, but I won't put it on until we get back to A.J.'s house. I don't feel comfortable changing clothes here. I didn't get to finish cleaning everything, and it's still so dirty!  
  
Sharona leaned over to A.J. He has an appointment in half an hour to interview a witness, so we'll swing by your place afterwards so he can change. He just said he'd wear it, let's take what we can get and do it this way. Besides, by then it will be time for his second daily shower.  
  
A.J. sighed. Ok Monk, you can wait until you're through with the interview. But _as soon_ as you are finished, you will put on your vest.   
  
Rick emerged from the main cabin, carrying a large, plastic fruit bowl in his right hand, and plopped down in the chair next to Sharona. He had finally managed to separate his bowl from his kitchen counter using a hammer and chisel, but a large chunk of the counter's surface was still stuck to the bottom of the bowl. Rick sat there with a sour look on his face, glaring at Monk. A.J. saw this and was immediately burst out laughing. Rick turned his heated stare towards his brother. This isn't funny, A.J.! This declaration only made A.J. laugh harder, and Rick was not amused. He chucked the bowl overboard into the water  
  
Adrian reprimanded Rick, You can't do that! You're littering! Hearing Monk scold his brother reduced A.J. to a simpering mess. He was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his face.   
  
Rick shot back, Well why don't you just jump in and get it, Monk!   
  
Adrian turned around in his seat to watch the bowl sink beneath the surface, then faced Rick again. Um, no, that's ok.  
  
A.J. wiped the tears from his cheeks and came to Monk's defense. Oh....come on, Rick! You got exactly what you deserved on this one! You remember last week when you let me borrow your damn fuel guzzling truck without telling me it was out of gas, and I had to spend sixty dollars of my own money to fill it up?  
  
  
  
Well, keep your money, you don't have to pay me back anymore. Seeing this is worth sixty bucks! He started laughing again.  
  
Gee, thanks. Rick replied, his voice laden with sarcasm.  
  
Sharona looked at her watch. Hey guys, we have to get going. We're supposed to interview a witness in less than half an hour.  
  
They all rose from their seats and made their way along the ship's walkway to the dock. Rick and A.J. led the way, followed by Sharona, who was leading Monk by the arm. The brothers stepped onto the dock and waited, while Sharona tried to coax Adrian to step across the gap and exit the boat. Adrian looked extremely nervous and uncertain about making the crossing, so A.J. held out his arms to provide a steady support. Come on, Monk, I'll help you across.  
  
Adrian kept his right hand on Sharona's shoulder, and reached for A.J. with his left hand, which he had covered with a wipe. Monk looked over at A.J., who had grabbed hold of his outstretched arm, and was about to cross over when something on the neighboring boat caught his attention. He let go of A.J. and pointed at the boat moored directly across the dock. There it is! Sharona, there it is! he exclaimed.  
  
A.J. gave Sharona a puzzled look. Is he ok?  
  
She shrugged her shoulders, then looked at her boss. There what is?  
  
The knots! They're the same ones the killer used! To the amazement of his companions, Adrian jumped onto the dock, apparently forgetting about the dreaded gap, and ran over to the next boat. There was a middle-aged man wearing yellow shorts and a red Hawaiian shirt sitting on the deck. He was lounging in a chair and reading a newspaper. Adrian excitedly called out to him from the dock. Sir! Excuse me, sir! May I ask you a question?  
  
The man looked up from his newspaper and saw Monk addressing him. He shrugged his shoulders. Uh, sure, I guess!  
  
Adrian pointed to a length of rope that was tied to a chrome hand rail on the side of his boat. Where did you learn to tie a knot like that? It's very unusual.  
  
He looked over at the rope. Oh, that? My father taught me back when we lived on a farm. It's called a pronto' knot. He walked over to it, grabbed the right end of the rope that dangled beneath the knot, and gave it a quick tug. The knot immediately unraveled and the rope came away in his hands. It's a quick-release knot that you use to tie horses to something, like a fence or a post.  
  
Did you say horses?  
  
Yeah. If the animal panics while it's tied up, you just pull on this end of the rope, and BINGO! It's free. I leave these pieces of rope all around my boat, so I can grab some quickly in case I need to lash something down. I'm always using them. It really comes in handy!  
  
Thank you, sir! Thank you! Monk ran back to Sharona and the Simon brothers, obviously excited to have found such a promising lead.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Monk called Captain Brown during the drive over to the interview and informed him of their discovery back at the marina. Adrian, Sharona and A.J. rode in the Camaro, while Rick followed at a distance in the Power Wagon, covertly providing back up. They arrived at the apartment building at 1 pm without incident, and went to speak to the neighbor of victims number five and six, a seventy-five year old black woman named Mrs. Wilson. Rick parked the Power Wagon on the street and kept watch from a discrete vantage point, while Adrian, Sharona, and A.J. visited the witness.  
  
Mrs. Wilson, an elderly widow, was warm and amicable towards her most recent visitors, and was trying to be as helpful as possible. Adrian was particularly interested in these two victims because both women lived in the same apartment building. They lived just one floor apart, and were killed within two hours of each other on the same night. Adrian sat on the couch across from Mrs. Wilson in her recliner and asked questions, while Sharona fixed her some hot tea. Mrs. Wilson had asked A.J., whom she referred to as that nice young man', to change some of the light bulbs in her apartment, and he was busy rooting around in the kitchen looking for the necessary hardware.  
  
Mrs. Wilson, Adrian began, How did you know the two women who were killed in this building three months ago?  
  
Oh, they were my neighbors. They were the sweetest girls, too! They came by to check on me every day. I'm getting along in years, and those two always made sure I had everything I needed. The girls were inseparable you know, they were the best of friends! Sad to see them go at such a young age....  
  
They knew each other? Adrian was intrigued. How did they know each other? Sharona entered the room and handed Mrs. Wilson her cup of tea, then sat on the couch next to Adrian.  
  
Well, Sherry was a nursing student, and Jill was a cashier at the market around the corner, and they met when they moved in to the building. They just happened to be moving in on the same day. Neither of them had anyone helping them, so they just decided to help each other get settled. Mrs. Wilson took a sip of tea and continued. Sherry lived upstairs in the apartment across the hall. You know, the one with the big window in the dining room? Anyway, when I went out for my evening walks, lots of times I'd see them sitting in front of that window eating dinner together, talking about who knows what.   
  
They ate dinner together? In front of the window?  
  
Yes, I could see them from the street. They did that at least once a week.  
  
Adrian had heard enough. Thank you, Mrs. Wilson. Thank you! He and Sharona got up, and as soon as A.J. finished changing the light bulbs, they went upstairs to the apartment of victim number five, Sherry Moore.   
  
The building superintendent opened the vacant apartment for them, telling them to take as much time as necessary, but Adrian said he only needed a few minutes. He immediately went to the dining area to investigate the wide, floor-length window that looked out over the city. He opened the heavy curtains, stood where the dining table would usually sit, and looked out of the window. Adrian was careful not to look down at the street since he was deathly afraid of heights.   
  
Adrian's gaze was fixed on something he saw from this new vantage point. Sharona and A.J. watched as Adrian slowly raised his hand and pointed to the parking garage directly across the street. He turned to them, and exclaimed, The parking garage! He looked over at the cars that were parked there. The first row of cars were parked facing the apartment building, and he could see their windshields from where he was standing. He sat in his car, in the parking garage, and watched them. That's why they were killed on the same night! He saw them eating together, and decided to kill both of them! Adrian started for the door, clearly exhilarated over this new clue. Come on, let's go to the parking garage! I need to see the view from there!   
  
Five minutes later, Sharona, A.J., and Adrian were standing on the third floor of the parking garage, looking across the street at Sherry Moore's apartment. They had found a spot that provided a perfect view of the victim's dining room. Adrian said, now we know why he always leaves their bodies in front windows. He's telling us that this, he pointed to the apartment, is how he chooses his victims. He sees them through an open window. He stared at the apartment for several minutes. Who knows how long he watched them. They would never see him sitting here, in his car, at night. Adrian shifted his shoulder and tilted his head to the side, then continued voicing his observations. He probably watched them until he knew their patterns of behavior, then waited until the perfect night, when Sherry had the night off, and Jill worked late. He killed Sherry first, then broke into Jill's apartment, and waited for her to come home. Monk shook his head, then just stood there, looking out at the apartment window and saying nothing.   
  
Sharona knew that her boss was thinking about their horrible deaths, and how terrified these two women must have been during their last moments in life. Adrian Monk was determined not to let such a crime happen again. She moved over to him and patted him on the back.  
  
After a few minutes of silence, A.J. spoke up. Mr. Monk, are we done here?  
  
He nodded. I think so.  
  
Ok, then. Let's go. He then grumbled under his breath, Time for you to run up my water bill even further with yet another shower. A.J. led the way as they casually walked back to his car. They had reached the exit driveway for the parking garage, and were just stepping over the curb onto the sidewalk when Monk resurrected the debate about his controversial protective gear.  
  
Sharona rolled her eyes. Oh God, not again!  
  
Oh come on, Sharona! Monk whined. I don't want to wear a vest. They're so uncomfortable!  
  
Well I'm wearing one, She shot back. and that means you will, too! End of discussion!  
  
But Sharona, I don't need -   
  
The sound of squealing tires interrupted their argument. A red Honda Civic with dark tinted windows was approaching them at a high rate of speed. The driver abruptly turned into the driveway beside them and slammed on the brakes. The front passenger window rolled down, and suddenly, A.J., Adrian, and Sharona were staring down the barrel of a black, twelve gage pump action shotgun.  
  
A.J. pulled his .357 magnum and yelled GUN! GET DOWN! to his companions. Adrian had already grabbed Sharona and was pulling her to the ground in an attempt to shield her from the line of fire. A.J. aimed his .357 at the driver, and the driver leveled his gun at Monk.   
  
Before either man could pull the trigger, Rick came charging in with the Power Wagon and rammed the tiny Honda with tremendous force, crushing the entire back of the car and sending it flying into the thick cement wall of the parking garage. The truck's engine roared as Rick hit the gas and smashed the car up against the wall, and the Civic's passenger compartment crumbled, pinning the driver inside his demolished vehicle. Rick jumped out of the truck, his .44 magnum at the ready, and carefully moved to the driver's side of the decimated Honda while A.J. covered the passenger side.   
  
Rick yelled.  
  
I'm fine Rick! Let's clear the car! A.J. removed the shotgun from the car as Rick checked for additional weapons. Finding none, they holstered their guns and immediately ran back to check on Monk and Sharona.  
  
They were already back on their feet, and Adrian was frantically wiping dirt and bits of gravel from his clothes. Sharona waved to the Simons. We're ok, guys.  
  
Hey Rick! A.J. called to his brother, Don't you recognize the driver? He walked over to the smashed car and leaned down to look in the passenger window.  
  
Rick strolled over to the driver's side and crouched on the sidewalk, staring at the battered driver. Well, well, well. If it isn't Bad' Billy Oshman. How ya doin', Billy?  
  
Aww hell, not you two again! The driver lamented. Just shut the hell up and call me an ambulance!  
  
Monk and Sharona joined A.J. at the passenger window. Wait a minute, you two _know_ the killer? Adrian was bewildered.  
  
  
He's not your killer, Monk. A.J. explained. This guy is just a local rent-a-thug, we've run into him before. Really nasty guy, though. Your killer obviously hired him for another assassination attempt.  
  
Rick walked back to his truck and got in the driver's seat, while A.J. spoke to the driver. Well Billy, we'd like to, but I'm afraid we just can't do that until you give us some information. We need to know who hired you to kill our friend, here.  
  
Screw you, Simon!  
  
A.J. stood up and looked at Rick, who was watching him from inside the truck. He's not talking yet, Rick. Hit the gas! Rick pressed the accelerator, and the Power Wagon slowly moved forward, shoving the car into the wall and crushing it even further.   
  
Monk and Sharona stepped back several feet to avoid flying glass as the remaining windows shattered. He turned to Sharona and asked, Is this legal?  
  
She turned to her boss and replied, Do you see either of them wearing a badge?  
  
Bad Billy' began to scream and panic. Hey, you can't to that! That's police brutality damn it!  
  
A.J. smiled and reminded him, We aren't cops, Billy! He signaled for Rick to keep going, and the Honda continued to crumple.  
  
OK OK OK! I'll tell you EVERYTHING! Just stop him!   
  
A.J. Held up his hand, and Rick eased his foot off of the gas pedal, then put the truck in reverse and backed away from the annihilated Honda. The only damage to the Power Wagon was a broken headlight and a lot of scraped paint on the massive steel bumper.   
  
Ok Billy, A.J. asked, who hired you?  
  
I don't know, never seen him before, I SWEAR! He just hired me an hour ago! He said he'd give me five thousand bucks to cap that guy! He pointed to Monk, who was watching this interrogation in disbelief. He paid me half up front, the rest when the job was done, and said the mark would be here at one o' clock sharp! He even gave me a picture to make sure I killed the right guy! Said he took it himself! The driver pulled a photograph out of the center console and handed it to A.J.  
  
A.J. took the 8 x 10 picture and looked at it, then walked over to where Adrian and Sharona waited and handed it to Monk. Rick left the Power Wagon and joined them, standing behind Monk and looking over his shoulder at the picture. It showed a frontal view of Monk, who was walking up a set of stairs outside of a building. Sharona was also in the photograph, seen walking beside Adrian, but most of her body had been cropped out of the frame. Part of a window frame was visible on the left side of the photo, so the photographer had obviously been standing inside the building that they were approaching when he captured them on film.   
  
Rick yelled to the driver. Thanks, Billy! Ambulance is on the way!   
  
Oh, my God...... Adrian muttered, causing everyone to turn and look at him. He was staring at the photograph with a shocked look on his face, his right hand pressed to his temple.   
  
Sharona put her hand on his arm. Adrian, what's wrong?  
  
Monk looked up at the Simon Brothers, obviously apprehensive about something. Call Captain Brown. I need to see him _immediately_. And tell him........tell him not to let anyone - and I mean _anyone_ - know that we're meeting him. The somber tone of Adrian's voice had everyone worried.  
  
What is it, Monk? Rick asked over Adrian's shoulder. Sounds like something has you spooked.  
  
Just _look_ at the picture! Don't you recognize this? Adrian pointed to the stairs shown in the photograph. Those are the steps in front of the San Diego Police Department! And look at the window, here....... He pointed to the window frame at the edge of the photo. This picture was taken from _inside _the building! Whoever took this photo was inside the police station!   
  
Jesus Christ, Rick! A.J. exclaimed in astonishment. He's right!  
  
And another thing.....You and A.J. aren't here. Adrian pointed to Sharona's cropped form on the other side of the picture. Sharona is, but you two are nowhere to be seen. The only time that I walked these stairs, without you two walking next to me, is when Sharona and I first arrived at the station on Thursday. This means that the killer was waiting for us _before_ we even showed up!  
  
Rick and A.J. stared at each other in disbelief. After a few moments of ominous silence, Sharona asked Monk, So what are you saying, Adrian?  
  
He looked at her, and uttered the words that none of them wanted to hear. I think.........we may be looking for a cop.


	7. Number Ten

DISCLAIMER: Rating - PG13 (it's a murder mystery after all), for a little cussing & swearing and a body count. and Simon & Simon are not owned by me, they are owned by USA Network and CBS. This is just a stupid fan fiction and I won't make any money off of it.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Monk, Sharona, and the Simon brothers sat in the living room of A.J.'s house, waiting for Captain Brown. It was 5:30 pm, and Brown was due to arrive any minute. They had to postpone their meeting until after the Captain left work at the usual time in order to avoid suspicion. Sharona and A.J. sat on the couch drinking hot tea, and Rick sat in the matching cushioned chair across from them, draping himself across the seat so his legs hung over the armrest. Adrian sat at the dining table, having changed into a fresh shirt and slacks, reading the case files yet again. Captain Brown finally arrived a few minutes later. He walked in through the unlocked front door, grabbed a coke from the fridge, and sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. He did not look happy.   
  
Brown scowled at Monk, then at Rick and A.J. You guys had better be right about this.  
  
Adrian rose from his seat at the dining table and moved next to Brown. Captain, it's the only explanation that makes any sense. The killer hired that gunman just one hour before the interview. He even told him _exactly_ where we would be, and when.  
  
The driver was telling the truth, Town. Rick interrupted. I was watching their backs. No one followed them to the site of the attack. The gunman was already parked on the street, just waiting for them to show up. He knew where they were gonna be.  
  
Adrian continued presenting his case to Captain Brown. What about the traps the killer left in our hotel rooms? He knew which rooms we were in well in advance. And look...... Adrian handed Brown the picture given to them by the unsuccessful assassin a few hours earlier. He even took my picture as soon as we pulled up in front of the police station - from _inside_ the police station. The killer was waiting for us before we even stepped out of the car! Now just how is that possible?  
  
The Captain took the photo from Monk and studied it closely. His expression darkened as he realized Monk had to be right. Damn...........all right, from now on, we keep a tight lid on everything. Talk only to me, or sergeant Nixon. I _know_ he's clean.  
  
Got it, Town. The Simon brothers answered in unison.  
  
Brown popped open his soda and took a swig. I'll have Nixon start checking the payroll records to see which officers were off duty on the nights of the murders. That should narrow down our search pretty damn quick. He'll have to do it on the sly to avoid tipping off our suspect, so It will take him a couple of days.  
  
Adrian turned abruptly and fixed his gaze on the case files sitting on the dining table. All of the murders occurred on a weekend.  
  
Brown swallowed another mouthful soda. That's right. Every woman was killed on either Friday or Saturday night.  
  
How often do your officers have the weekends off?  
  
Not often, we rotate weekend shifts. Most cops only get one weekend off every month.  
  
Adrian thought for a moment, then looked back at Brown. Expand your search to include civilian personnel working for the department. Secretaries, mechanics, computer technicians.......anyone who works in the building. And remember to check their backgrounds for any experience with horses. Maybe the killer grew up on a ranch, or a farm, or worked at a stable.......  
  
Brown nodded in acknowledgment, then finished his soda and got up to leave. He looked dispirited.  
  
Don't worry, Captain. Adrian said. It's only a matter of time, now. We're closing in on him. With a decisive tone, he added, We'll catch him. Soon.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Saturday was fairly uneventful. The entire day was spent interviewing witnesses and visiting crime scenes without any new leads being discovered. The group eventually gave up for the day, and headed back to A.J.'s house at around 6:00 pm to eat dinner and relax for the rest of the evening. Adrian was frustrated after an entire day of detective work failed to pay off, and instead of dining with his companions, he decided to continue reading over the case files, hoping to find anything he might have missed.   
  
By 9:00 pm, Monk was still scrutinizing the files. Sharona sat on the couch next to Rick, who slumped in his seat and rested his boots on the coffee table as usual, and A.J. sat in the chair across from them. They were busy swapping 'war stories' about their unusual experiences in a friendly and casual manner.   
  
Sharona had amazed her two companions with tales of some of Monk's most difficult cases, and now she wanted to hear more about the bizarre lives of Rick and A.J. Simon. Sharona inquired, what is the sneakiest thing you've ever done to complete a job?  
  
A.J. rolled his eyes. Oh good Lord, where do we start?  
  
Rick began, our lawyer friend had hired us to bust this guy for insurance fraud. He was faking a spinal injury and we were trying to take pictures of him walking around, but we just couldn't get him out of the damn wheelchair.  
  
Ugh, I remember that one. A.J. lamented. He was holed up in this lake house trying to stay out of sight. We tried just about everything we could think of to get him out of that chair. He was the best hack we had ever seen.  
  
Rick spoke around the cigar he was chewing on. I mean we faked a fire in the chimney, let a rattlesnake loose in his living room, we even threw a concussion grenade at him and he didn't even flinch! So we finally just grabbed him, rolled his wheelchair down to the dock, and dumped him in the lake. We figured he'd _have_ to swim.  
  
A.J. smiled, remembering the scene. But what we didn't know was that he was faking paralysis by having his physician accomplice give him a spinal block. He really was temporarily paralyzed. We had to jump in and save him from drowning!  
  
Oh my God! Sharona was laughing hard. You two are so evil!  
  
Hey A.J., Rick chimed in, what about the time you posed as a runner to serve a subpoena?  
  
He laughed. Oh yeah, I remember that. A.J. turned to Sharona and continued. We were hired to serve a subpoena to this guy that we just could not catch, and we happened to find out he was running in a relay race at some local amateur track and field event. So we showed up, with Rick posing as a coach and me dressed as a runner. After the gun sounded, I just ran out onto the track, wrapped the subpoena around the runner's baton, handed it off to him, yelled Warren Smith, you've been served!' and we ran like hell!  
  
Sharona started laughing. I'll bet he was pissed!  
  
A.J. laughed as well. He chased us all the way to the car!   
  
Oh yeah, speaking of cars, Rick interrupted, one time, we were using our mom's car on a stake out at a miniature golf course for this divorce case, and -  
  
Oh Rick, don't you dare! A.J. warned.  
  
Rick ignored him. Anyway, this huge security guard caught A.J. snooping around. So he roughs up A.J. and stuffs him in the trunk of the car. Unfortunately, he had the keys in his pocket. So I had to call our mom at 3:00 am to bring a spare key and rescue A.J. from the trunk.  
  
Oh yeah, Rick? Well what about the time we busted that female shoplifter for the department store and she beat the crap out of you?  
  
Rick suddenly turned defensive. That woman was Godzilla!  
  
But she wasn't as big as that security guard!  
  
The house phone rang and interrupted their jocular conversation. A.J. got up to answer it, while Sharona decided to go check on Monk. She rose from her seat on the couch and moved over to stand next to Adrian at the dining table. He was still completely occupied with the case files. Looking weary and frustrated, he rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand, and leaned forward to look closely at some of the crime scene photos yet again. Sharona rubbed his back and said, Hey, it's getting late. You look tired. Why don't you quit for the night?  
  
Adrian leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. Maybe you're right, I should just come back to it tomorrow morning. He stared at the files spread out on the table. I'm still missing something, though, I know it. And if I don't see it soon, this guy is going to kill someone else.  
  
Thanks, Town. We'll be right there. Everyone looked at A.J. as he hung up the phone. Mr. Monk, Sharona, put your vests back on and get your coats. We have another body.  
  
Oh, no....... A despondent Adrian slumped in his chair and put his head in his hands, looking like the weight of the world had just descended upon his shoulders.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
This was murder number ten for their elusive serial killer. The latest victim lived in a very upscale suburban neighborhood, complete with well-manicured front lawns, occupied almost exclusively by the upper middle class. Rick, A.J., Sharona, and Monk drove past the squad cars blocking the street, and pulled up to the crime scene in the Camaro just as the bomb squad finished clearing the house. Brown was afraid the killer might have left another trap like the one at the San Francisco scene, so he called in a bomb sniffing dog to make sure there were no lethal surprises waiting for them. Finding nothing, they exited the house, and pronounced it safe for entry.  
  
Monk was eager to work the scene, but Captain Brown was making him wait until the department's crime scene photographer could document everything first. The photographer and the lab technicians, collectively known as the forensics unit', stood in the street clustered around Captain Brown, listening to his instructions.   
  
Adrian had segregated himself from everyone else, saying he needed some time alone so he could think. He stood on the sidewalk in front of the house, with his long brown coat buttoned to protect him from the cool night air, absentmindedly fiddling with the ever present wedding band on his left ring finger. His gaze was fixed on the large bay window in the front of the house. From his vantage point, he could barely see the mass of disheveled blonde hair of victim number ten, who was lying on the carpet just behind the window. Adrian momentarily shifted his focus to the crime scene photographer as he prepared to go to work. He pulled an expensive 35 mm camera out of his camera case, clipped the electronic flash into it's mount, handed the case to one of the other forensic technicians, then entered the house and immediately began taking pictures. Adrian hoped he would hurry, because he would not be allowed into the house to start working until the photographer finished documenting the untouched crime scene. As soon as the photographer disappeared inside, Adrian once again returned his attention to the deceased.  
  
Sharona, Rick, and A.J. were standing next to the Camaro, quietly drinking hot coffee. Sharona looked over at her boss, who was still standing there in front of the window, staring at the victim. She decided that she should go talk to him. Monk told her that he wanted to be alone for a while, but she had been working with him long enough to know that what he actually needed right now was his friend. Sharona excused herself and moved across the lawn to stand next to him. The anguished look on his face told her that he blamed himself for not catching the killer quickly enough.  
  
Sharona placed her hand on his arm. Adrian seemed unaware of her presence. Adrian, look at me. He finally turned to face her. Sharona stared into his sorrowful eyes and said, It's not your fault. He looked down at his polished shoes, saying nothing. She gently rubbed his back, trying to reassure him, knowing it did little good. Adrian, you can't let this guy get to you like this. You have to concentrate so you can catch him, ok?  
  
After a few moments of silence, Adrian finally looked up at her. He seemed to be much more focused and alert, as he usually was when working a scene. You're right, Sharona. You're absolutely right. I'm ok now, thanks. Sharona smiled and patted his back, then went back to finish her coffee with Rick and A.J.   
  
Adrian decided he needed to busy himself, so he began counting the bricks in the front wall of the house while the photographer processed the scene. He was about half way through when the photographer started photographing the corpse. The blinding, intermittent light from his flash shone right in his eyes and momentarily blinded Monk, causing him to lose count of the bricks. He cursed the glaring distraction and started over. A few minutes later, Captain Brown interrupted him again. Mr. Monk, we're ready to go in.  
  
Sharona, Monk, and Captain Brown covered their shoes with plastic booties and carefully entered the house, being careful not to disturb anything. Rick and A.J. ditched their coffee cups and quickly followed them inside. Adrian immediately noticed that the carpet was freshly vacuumed. He also smelled traces of chloroform in the bedroom curtains where the killer had secretly waited to surprise his victim. The phone in the bedroom was off the hook because the killer, wanting the police to find the body, dialed 911 right before he left and let them trace the call. Adrian continued to move throughout the house, carefully examining everything in each room, until he finally reached the carpeted living area where their victim lay underneath the large bay window.  
  
She was naked, lying on her stomach parallel to the window, with her head turned to the left and her legs straight. The killer had used his trademark knots and white nylon rope to tie her feet together and her hands behind her back. A small footstool had been placed next to her feet, and as usual, the killer had neatly folded her clothes and placed them on top of the stool. A wallet-sized photograph of Susan Hopkins, the San Francisco murder victim, was sitting in plain view on top of the clothing. The carpet underneath and around the body had been vacuumed. It was the typical crime scene for this serial killer, except for one crucial difference - this time, he left a message for detective Monk.  
  
Before leaving the scene, the killer took an 8 x 10 copy of the picture he had taken the day Monk and Sharona arrived at the police station, and placed it over the face of the corpse. He had sliced open the tip of the victim's left index finger, and used her hand to write two words across the photograph in her blood:  
  
WORK FASTER 


	8. A Desperate Killer

DISCLAIMER: Rating - PG13 (it's a murder mystery after all), for a little cussing & swearing and a body count. and Simon & Simon are not owned by me, they are owned by USA Network and CBS. This is just a stupid fan fiction and I won't make any money off of it. Enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It was just after midnight, and everyone was getting tired. Captain Brown stood just outside his office door in the nearly deserted police station, quietly talking to sergeant Nixon about the status of their computer search for the killer. Nixon felt sure he would finish his research by Monday morning. Captain Brown thanked him and sent him home, then entered his office. He found Rick and A.J. in the same spots they always occupied when left unattended in his office - Rick was seated in a chair with his feet propped up on the front of Town's desk, and A.J. sat in his cushy office chair behind the desk, reading papers he found while snooping through the drawers. Monk and Sharona were sitting on the black vinyl bench seat at the back of the office patiently waiting for Brown. Adrian had just finished cleaning all of the Captain's tennis trophies that were displayed on a small table next to their seat, and he tossed a used wipe into a nearby trash can as Town came through the door.   
  
Captain Brown gave A.J. a stern look, and he casually moved out from behind Brown's desk and took the seat next to Rick. Well, that's about all we can do for tonight. Everything is bagged and tagged. Brown declared as he sat heavily in his vacated chair. We should all go home and get some sleep. Hell, we're the last ones here. Even the forensic techs went home almost an hour ago. He rubbed his neck, obviously tired.  
  
Monk rose from his seat. Captain, I have an idea that might speed up our search. If our killer is staking out new territory in San Francisco, and he works for your police department, maybe he applied for a job with the S.F.P.D.? That's an awfully long drive to make every time he's searching for a new victim, so he's probably preparing to move up there permanently.  
  
That's a damn good idea, Monk. It's worth a shot.   
  
I'll call lieutenant Disher tomorrow morning and have him search through the recent job applications.  
  
Great! Now get the hell out of my office. I'm calling my wife, and then I'm going home.  
  
As they got up to leave, Town snapped And damn it A.J., stay out of my desk!  
  
Ok, Town. A.J. replied as he exited the office. On his way out, Adrian pulled a wipe out of his jacket pocket and cleaned the spot on Town's desk where Rick had placed his feet, then followed everyone out the door.   
  
Yeah, that's what you said last time. the Captain muttered under his breath. Ok Town'.....Damn parasites!  
  
As they left the police station, Rick and A.J. led the way to the Camaro, which was parked on the street about a block away, followed closely by Adrian and Sharona. The night air had grown even colder, so Adrian buttoned his long brown coat while Sharona zipped up her denim jacket. Rick had rolled down the sleeves of his tan hunter's jacket earlier in the evening, and looked comfortable as he and his brother, still in his gray suit jacket, strolled down the sidewalk. The cars that had been parked on the street when they pulled up to the station were now gone, leaving the entire parking lane next to the sidewalk open and unobstructed.  
  
As they walked in silence, Adrian noticed that, yet again, the belt on the back of Rick's jacket was loosely tied in a messy knot. Um, Rick? Hello.... Adrian waved his hand in the air, trying to get his attention.  
  
Everyone stopped and looked at Monk. Rick asked. Adrian pointed to the back of his jacket, and immediately Rick knew what he wanted. He sighed in frustration and rolled his eyes. Ok Monk, we'll fix the damn belt, just hang on. He turned around to allow A.J. access to his belt.  
  
Sharona laughed quietly as she watched A.J. fussing over Rick's jacket, while Rick impatiently shuffled his feet. It reminded her of the many times she made her son stand still while she adjusted his clothes before letting him leave the house.  
  
Ok Monk, it's fixed! Rick commented sarcastically. The big bad knot is all gone!  
  
Hey Rick, A.J. replied, if you weren't such a damn slob, he wouldn't have anything to complain about. You don't see me fixing _my_ coat! A.J. tugged at Rick's arm. Come on, let's go.  
  
As they continued down the sidewalk towards A.J.'s car, Adrian made sure he touched every street sign and parking meter they passed, as he could never resist touching the poles'. Sharona's thoughts turned to their difficult case. Hey Adrian, she asked, doesn't this guy usually wait a month or two in between murders?  
  
Yes, he does. Monk replied.  
  
So why did he kill again so soon? It's only been a week since the murder in San Francisco.  
  
Adrian thought for a moment. He knows that I'm closing in on him, that we'll catch him very soon. He noticed a crumpled piece of paper lying in the gutter, so Adrian wrapped a wipe around his hand and moved towards the street to collect it. He knows his game is about to end, so he wanted to get one more victim before we take him down. Adrian stepped off of the sidewalk and bent down to retrieve the trash.  
  
Rick looked back wondering why Monk had left the sidewalk, and saw him picking up the paper. That's when Rick noticed the gray, late model Toyota mini pickup, with large chrome tow mirrors on each side, moving in their direction at a high rate of speed. The driver suddenly gunned the engine and swerved to the right, heading straight for Monk, who was still standing in the street with trash in hand.   
  
Rick reacted immediately. LOOK OUT! he yelled as he sprinted towards Adrian. A.J. grabbed Sharona and pulled her into the doorway of a nearby building as soon as he heard Rick's warning. Monk looked up at Rick, who was running towards him, then he turned and saw the truck that was about to run him down. Rick grabbed Monk by his left arm, then he spun around, flinging Adrian as hard as he could back onto the sidewalk and out of the street. Adrian landed on the ground a safe distance away, but unfortunately for Rick, this meant that he was now the only one in the path of the oncoming vehicle. The driver missed hitting Rick head on, but the tow mirror on the passenger door struck him in the ribs on his right side, breaking the mirror off the truck and violently knocking him off his feet. The driver sped down the street, leaving Rick sprawled on the pavement.   
  
A.J. saw his brother lying motionless in the street, and immediately ran to his side. Sharona was right behind him. Rick! Are you ok?  
  
AAHHHH! DAMN this hurts! Rick yelled, clutching his right side.  
  
Don't move, Rick! Sharona placed a restraining hand on his shoulder as he tried to sit up. She unbuttoned his jacket and lifted up his shirt, carefully searching for injuries. Just lie still and let me take a look. Rick winced in pain as she felt along his ribs. You might have some cracked ribs, but I think you'll be ok. You still need to go to the hospital and get checked out. A.J., let's get him out of the street before another car comes along.  
  
A.J. and Sharona carefully helped Rick into a sitting position, and were preparing to move him over to the sidewalk when A.J. suddenly realized that Adrian was missing. Hey, where's Monk? He looked around, but Monk was nowhere to be seen. Damn it! Where the hell did he go?  
  
ADRIAN! WHERE ARE YOU? Sharona called out. She heard no answer, and became extremely worried. Oh my God, she exclaimed as an ominous thought occurred to her. I think he went after that truck! She turned to A.J. with desperation and fear in her eyes. A.J., go find him! Go find Adrian!  
  
A.J. gave his brother a worried look, not wanting to leave him lying injured in the street. I'm ok, A.J. Rick reassured him, even though he clenched his teeth in pain. Just go!  
  
Ok. You stay here, Sharona! Stay with Rick! A.J. took off running down the sidewalk, moving in the same direction as the truck had when the driver fled the scene. PLEASE Monk!' A.J. thought as he searched for his client, Don't try to catch this guy by yourself!'  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Adrian sprinted down the sidewalk, chasing the truck that had just leveled Rick. When he saw Rick lying motionless in the street, possibly dead, he decided that he could not just sit on the pavement and watch the driver get away. So when Sharona and A.J. went to check on Rick, Adrian got up and ran after the vehicle.   
  
Monk watched as the truck took a right turn into an alley about one hundred feet in front of him, and realized that the driver was probably going for a stashed getaway car. If Monk could get there fast enough, he might be able to catch a glimpse of the license plate on the other car, and provide an invaluable lead in their hunt for the serial killer. He guessed that the killer had hired another thug for a second assassination attempt, and if they could catch this suspect, he could probably provide crucial information about his employer. Adrian was running as fast as he could, but now he pushed himself even harder, trying desperately to reach the alley before the driver could make his escape. He raced down the sidewalk and turned the corner into the dark alley.  
  
The old Toyota was parked on the far right side of the alley about fifty feet ahead. The driver's side door was open and the lights were off. There was a second vehicle parked in front and to the left of the truck. It was a black Ford Taurus, sitting with it's engine idling and lights on. The driver's side door of the Ford was also open. This was obviously the getaway car. Adrian crept down the gloomy alley, trying to get close enough to the Ford to read the license plate. He spotted movement in the cab of the pickup truck and froze where he stood. The hit-and-run driver, a man clad in black and wearing a ski mask and gloves, was hastily cleaning the passenger compartment of the truck with a small hand vacuum. Adrian's heart skipped a beat as he watched the suspect removing all trace evidence from the vehicle. The man in front of him was no mere hired thug, but the serial killer himself.  
  
For a moment, Adrian was overcome by paralyzing fear. He was standing in a dark alley a mere thirty feet away from a man who had murdered at least ten people just for fun. Not only was he in close proximity to the murderer, but Adrian was by himself. He was absolutely terrified knowing that he was alone with a truly vicious man. But then Adrian remembered the crime scene he had visited just a few hours ago, how that woman had suffered before she died, and how he could have spared her that horrible death if he had just worked faster'. He thought about Rick lying motionless in the street, having paid a terrible price for saving his life. And that this man before him had come extremely close to killing Sharona just two nights ago. Adrian suddenly realized he was no longer afraid, and was surprised to discover that his fear had been replaced by seething anger. That man tried to murder his best friend, and had probably just killed Rick. Monk was determined to make sure he never hurt anyone again.   
  
Adrian charged forward and grabbed the killer from behind as he approached his getaway car, pinning his arms to his sides and causing him to drop the vacuum. Adrian fought to maintain a tight hold on the suspect as he struggled to wrench himself free from Monk's grasp. He just could not shake Adrian loose, so the killer abruptly raised his arms straight out from his sides, causing Adrian's grip to slip up around his shoulders. He quickly ducked underneath Monk's arms and turned around, slipped his foot behind Adrian's leg to trip him, then grabbed Monk by the throat and pushed him over backwards, slamming Adrian's head into the pavement. Pain exploded in Adrian's head as he hit the asphalt, momentarily stunning him. Monk lay on the ground, trying to regain his senses.   
  
Adrian felt something heavy land on his stomach. He opened his eyes to find the killer sitting on top of him. Then Adrian saw light glinting off the blade of the military style knife his adversary held in his right hand, and Monk knew that he was in serious trouble. He quickly raised his arms to defend himself and felt the blade bite into the palms of his hands. The killer brought the knife around again as Adrian frantically tried to fend off his attack. Adrian knew had to act fast to get this guy off of him, so he rolled hard to his left, throwing his attacker off balance for a moment.   
  
The killer had to place his right hand on the ground to steady himself, and Monk tried to seize the opportunity to sit up and throw off his attacker. But the killer jammed his knee hard into Monk's chest and shoved him back down against the pavement. The suspect quickly swept out his left hand, pushing Adrian's arms out of their defensive position, then his right hand snaked forward, and suddenly the assailant was holding his knife to Monk's throat. Adrian felt the cold metal against his neck and immediately stopped fighting. He then slowly raised his bleeding hands, and yielded to his opponent. There was nothing he could do.   
  
The killer placed his hand on Adrian's chest so he could reposition his knee, and felt something flat and rigid underneath Monk's shirt. With a confused look on his face, he ripped open the collar of Adrian's dress shirt to reveal the bulletproof vest he was wearing. The killer saw the protective vest and gave a sinister laugh. My, how ironic. he said sarcastically. He pressed the knife into Adrian's flesh just hard enough to make a shallow cut, causing Adrian to inhale sharply and wince in pain as blood trickled down his neck. The killer leaned forward as a wicked smile slowly spread across his face, and looked directly into Adrian's eyes. Goodbye motherfucker!  
  
  
BANG!  
  
  
The killer dropped the knife and clutched his left arm in pain. He looked up to see A.J. Simon standing at the end of the alley with a .357 magnum leveled at him. The killer immediately got off of Adrian and turned to run for his car.  
  
  
BANG!  
  
  
The killer almost stumbled over backwards as a bullet smashed into the middle of his back.   
  
  
BANG!  
  
  
His right shoulder lurched forward violently as another bullet slammed into him, almost knocking him off his feet. He dove into the front seat of his Ford and closed the door.  
  
  
BANG! BANG! BANG!  
  
  
A.J. unloaded his gun into the back of the Taurus as he sped away, shattering the rear window and punching two holes in the trunk. Adrian propped himself up on his right arm and watched the killer drive out of the alley, then he closed his eyes and slumped back against the pavement with a sigh of relief.   
  
Someone placed a hand on his right shoulder and began to gently shake him. Adrian opened his eyes to find A.J. kneeling over him with a worried look on his face, his smoking .357 still in hand. Monk, are you all right?  
  
Yes, I think so. His head was pounding after getting smacked against the pavement. Just a bad headache. A.J. holstered his weapon, then grabbed the front of Monk's coat and pulled him into a sitting position. Adrian groaned in pain as he sat up, which made his head hurt even worse.   
  
Looks like you need a few stitches, too. A.J. said when he noticed the cuts on Adrian's hands. Come on, let's get you to the hospital. He produced two handkerchiefs from inside his gray suit jacket and handed them to Monk, who then wrapped them around his bloody palms. A.J. draped Monk's right arm over his shoulders and pulled him to his feet. As he stood up, Adrian was hit by a sudden wave of dizziness, and he leaned heavily on A.J. as he waited for it to pass. When his head finally cleared, they began walking back down the alley towards the street where they had left Sharona and Rick.  
  
Adrian rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head and felt the lump developing there. A.J., we need to call Captain Brown. Tell him we finally have a solid lead he said as they made their way down the alley. I got the license plate number of the killer's car.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It was just after 2:00 am when they finally left the emergency room. It had taken almost forty stitches to close the cuts on Adrian's palms, and he left the hospital with his hands swathed in bandages. He also had a mild concussion from his head striking the pavement, and a wicked headache to match. The collar of his shirt, which lost several buttons when the killer ripped it open, was stained with blood from the shallow cut the killer's knife left on his neck. Adrian desperately wanted to take a shower and go to bed.  
  
Captain Brown had seized Monk's brown suit jacket and overcoat as evidence, hoping that some of the blood found on them belonged to their elusive killer. Adrian told the Captain that this was doubtful, because when he grappled with the suspect, Monk could feel that he, too, wore a bulletproof vest underneath his clothes. A.J. had shot him in the left upper arm, but Adrian thought it looked like a minor injury. The suspect probably would not show up in an emergency room seeking medical attention for gunshot wounds. They did, however, find the hand vacuum that the killer dropped in the alley, so when they finally did catch up to him, at least they had concrete evidence for an attempted murder charge.  
  
The good news of the night was that Rick managed to escape the hit-and-run episode without serious injury. He had some minor cuts and scrapes, as well as a set of badly bruised ribs, but nothing was broken, and he was allowed to leave the hospital with A.J., Sharona, and Adrian. Rick held a large bag of ice against his side as they waited for A.J. to pull the Camaro around to the ER exit.   
  
To everyone's surprise, Monk immediately climbed into the back seat behind A.J., leaving the spacious front passenger spot for a painfully battered Rick. He thanked Adrian for his consideration and carefully stretched himself out in the front seat after Sharona settled into her seat behind him.   
  
As they rode back to A.J.'s house, Adrian tried to relax and ignore his pounding headache. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat while Sharona pressed an ice pack to the back of his head. But when A.J. informed everyone of the bad news Captain Brown had given him, Adrian found that it only made his headache worse. The Toyota pickup truck was, as expected, stolen. It was pilfered less than an hour before the attempted hit. But the license plates on the black Taurus were stolen as well. The killer had lifted them off of a Lexus earlier that evening, meaning that the information Adrian had risked his life to obtain was essentially useless. Their solid lead had evaporated into thin air.   
  
They finally arrived at the house at about 2:20 am. Everyone was tired and craved sleep. When they got inside, Sharona grabbed some pillows and a blanket, and helped Rick get settled on the couch while A.J. and Monk went to the kitchen in search of Tylenol. After making sure Rick was comfortable, Sharona bid the Simon Brothers goodnight and trudged up the stairs to her room, followed closely by an exhausted Monk.   
  
Adrian rubbed the back of his neck as they plodded down the hallway towards their rooms. He was so busy trying to massage his sore muscles that he failed to notice Sharona had stopped in front of the door to her room, and he accidentally ran into her.  
  
Ooof - oh, sorry. Adrian backed up a step and was about to go around, but then he noticed she was acting a bit odd. She kept her head down, deliberately hiding her face from him. She ignored him and started to open the door to her room. Is something wrong? he pressed, growing a little concerned by her behavior.  
  
No, I'm fine she mumbled halfheartedly.   
  
Now he knew something was wrong. Adrian leaned over and peeked beneath her mass of blonde curls, and saw that she had been crying. He placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her around to face him. Ok Sharona, what's wrong?  
  
She claimed as she shied away. Adrian raised his eyebrows in the I know you're lying' look that she knew so well, and it reminded her that lying to Adrian Monk was futile. Damn.....why do you have to notice _everything_? She stomped her foot in frustration and brushed some stray hair away from her face.   
  
Adrian continued to stare at her. She knew he would pester her all night unless she gave him an explanation for her behavior. Oh, all right. Sharona turned and faced her friend, somewhat annoyed that he had busted her. But then she fixed her gaze on Adrian's neck, and focused on the long, shallow cut that marked the exact spot where the killer had pressed the knife against his throat. She saw the bloodstained collar of his shirt, and her expression softened as she thought about how periously close he had come to becoming number eleven'.   
  
Sharona sighed and looked directly into Adrian's eyes. I'm just glad you're not dead. She stepped forward, and surprised Adrian by wrapping her arms around his neck in a friendly hug. Then she rested her head on his shoulder and confessed, Sometimes you annoy the hell out of me, but I would have really missed you, Adrian.   
  
Touched by this display of genuine concern, Adrian brought his right arm around and casually patted her back with a bandaged hand. He smiled and said, Well, I would have missed you, too. He removed his arm from her, but Adrian was perplexed when she made no move to release him. Then he realized Sharona was trying to hide the fact that she was crying. Adrian had no idea what to do. He knew Sharona was probably embarrassed about getting so emotional, but he thought that just saying nothing was awfully insensitive. He knew he should do or say something, but he was terribly confused as to what that something should be. So after a few awkward moments of deliberation, Adrian concluded that he really needed to show Sharona he cared about her as well. He decided to give her a hug.   
  
I'm sorry......... she muttered into his shirt.   
  
It's ok, Sharona. As Adrian gathered her into his arms, all of the emotions Sharona had successfully held back all week came rushing to the surface, and she quietly began to sob. Adrian wrapped his arms around Sharona and held her as she cried. After a few minutes, she was still weeping, so he decided that he should try to calm her down.   
  
Hey, come on, Sharona. I'm not going anywhere. He reassured her as he rubbed her back. You know how hard it is to get rid of me. I'm like a bad cold, I never go away!  
  
She gave a little laugh, having managed to compose herself, and finally let go of Adrian. She wiped her eyes and pulled a tissue out of her purse. Oh no, look what I did! Sharona pointed to the wet spot her tears had made on his shirt. Adrian was planning on throwing away the button-less, bloodstained shirt and taking shower as soon as he got to his room, so he did not mind the spot.   
  
Adrian decided to try and cheer her up. He was terribly awkward when dealing with other people's emotions, as he semed to be rather talented at saying exactly the wrong thing and making them feel even worse. But Adrian felt he could not just leave his friend in such a fragile state. Monk held out his hand, and said Sharona produced a wipe from her purse and handed it to him. He immediately handed it back to her and said,   
  
Sharona looked up at Adrian. He was standing there with a stupid smile on his face. Sharona stared at the wipe looking confused, then suddenly realized he had made a really lame joke. She smiled and said, Adrian, I take it back.......'how's your water?' is no longer the dumbest thing anyone has ever said to me. She began to laugh. A wipe relay'? Adrian just shrugged his shoulders. Hey, Adrian, you made a joke!  
  
He rubbed his neck again. Well, I guess I hit my head harder than I thought!  
  
Sharona gasped in surprise. That's two in a row! I'm impressed! She laughed, then wiped her nose with her tissue and smiled. Thanks, Adrian. They turned and headed for their respective rooms. Oh yeah, leave your door unlocked tonight. I have to check on you every few hours because of that concussion, remember? And set your alarm clock no earlier than 11:00. You need plenty of rest.  
  
Adrian started to protest. But eleven is too -   
  
Sharona held up her index finger, raised her eyebrows, and shot him a stern look. Adrian recognized that look as the same one Benjie receives when he tries to stay up too late on a school night.  
  
Or, eleven is good. He backpedaled. Eleven o' clock. I'll set the alarm for eleven.  
  
Ok then. See you tomorrow. Sharona looked at her watch. See you today! She corrected herself, then entered her room and closed the door behind her.  
  
Adrian went to his room with a warm and pleasant feeling in his chest, thinking that, when it came to dealing with someone else's emotions, he had finally done something right.


	9. Monk Solves the Case

DISCLAIMER: Rating - PG13 (it's a murder mystery after all), for a little cussing & swearing and a body count. and Simon & Simon are not owned by me, they are owned by USA Network and CBS. This is just a stupid fan fiction and I won't make any money off of it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
At around 2:00 pm on Sunday, Rick, A.J., Sharona, and Monk sat in Captain Brown's office, waiting for him to return from a call. A.J. had plopped down in the chair behind Town's desk and started casually browsing through the drawers, and Rick had leaned back in his chair, tipped his hat down over his eyes, and propped up his feet. Adrian had placed a section of newspaper under Rick's boots so they would not dirty Town's desktop, then noticed some fingerprints on the large office window next to the desk, and went to clean them with a wipe.  
  
Sharona spied the freshly brewed pot of coffee next to the Captain's desk and sauntered over to fix herself a cup. She had not slept well that night because she had to check on Adrian every three hours due to his concussion. She also knew that A.J. had not slept at all, as he stayed up on watch the whole night so Rick could rest, and she decided to fix a cup for him as well. Sharona ambled over to Town's desk and set the cup in front of A.J. Here, you look like you could use this.  
  
A.J.'s face brightened. Thanks! I do need it. He gratefully took a sip, then leaned back in Town's cushy office chair, reading through some papers he found in the bottom right drawer. Hey Rick, looks like Town is trying to requisition some night vision goggles for the S.W.A.T. team. Ooh, their supplier is overcharging them, too.  
  
Rick pulled his hat back. Bet I can get him a great deal from Surplus Sammy's.  
  
Rick, with all the crap you've bought from Surplus Sammy's over the years, you could outfit the entire team yourself. A.J. gave his brother a disdainful look. Crap that is taking up space in _my closets_ by the way! Rick just smiled and pulled his hat back down over his eyes.   
  
Sharona sat down on the bench seat at the back of the office and sipped her coffee. She noticed that Adrian had finished cleaning the window, and was now moving about the office, rearranging everything he came across, straightening the pictures hanging on the walls, and generally making a pest of himself. A.J. was still engrossed by the forbidden riches found in Town's desk, but Rick was staring at Monk from beneath his hat, apparently amused by his actions. she scolded him. Monk ignored her and moved to the wall behind A.J., fiddling with the framed caricature of the Captain he found there. Adrian, cut it out!   
  
Adrian looked at her, and pointed to the picture. But it's crooked.  
  
So let it be crooked! Leave the pictures alone and come sit down. Adrian looked back at the drawing, tilted the frame so it was perfectly straight, and obediently moved back across the room to sit with Sharona. He shifted uncomfortably in the cumbersome protective vest beneath his clothes, then began fiddling with the bandages covering the palms of his hands.   
  
Hey Monk. Rick said from underneath his hat. Mind if I ask you a question?  
  
Adrian shrugged his shoulders.   
  
Rick pushed his hat back and asked, You're afraid of germs, crowds, milk, my boat, and the bridge next to A.J.'s house..........why the hell aren't you terrified of a guy that's tried to kill you five times? Rick looked over his shoulder at Monk. I mean, you jumped a vicious killer last night without a second thought in your weird little head -   
  
A.J. scolded him.  
  
Rick continued, you picked a fight with a serial killer, but you're deathly afraid of the flu? It doesn't make any damn sense!   
  
Two questions. Adrian blurted out.  
  
  
  
That's two questions, you said you only wanted to ask one.  
  
Rick pondered this for a few seconds, then countered, It's the same question phrased differently. Technically I asked you one question, I just stated it twice. Rick smirked at Monk. So......you gonna answer me or what?  
  
Sharona raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed that Rick had just outsmarted her boss. He's got you there, Adrian!  
  
Monk sat in silence for a moment, searching for an answer. I don't know. I guess it's because I'm.....you know......._me_.  
  
Oh great answer! Rick replied sarcastically. That really clears things up.   
  
Captain Brown finally returned to the station and entered his office. Oh, good! You're all here. Mr. Monk, did Nixon give you the.............get the hell out of my desk! Brown glared at A.J. as he casually moved from behind the desk, still drinking his coffee and reading some papers he had swiped, and took the chair next to Rick. Town snatched the papers from A.J.'s hand and tossed them back in the drawer as he sat down in his office chair. He gathered what little patience he had left and turned to address Adrian. Mr. Monk, did sergeant Nixon give you the case file from last night's homicide?  
  
Monk answered while picking at the bandages on his hands. Um, no......  
  
Sharona grabbed Adrian's hand. Stop that! she hissed at him.  
  
Adrian gave her a wounded look, then looked up at the Captain. We're still waiting for the photographs from the crime scene to be developed. Sergeant Nixon said the photography department is really backed up.  
  
Captain Brown became annoyed when he heard the file still was not complete. He picked up the phone and dialed the extension for the photography department. Hello, Henry? This is Captain Brown. Where are those photographs from last night? He paused to listen, then barked, I don't give a damn if Bob is on vacation! This is a priority! How fast can you have those crime scene photos ready............great! Sergeant Nixon will be up there in five minutes. Have them ready, or I'll have your butt! Got it? GOOD! He slammed the phone down, and informed Nixon over the intercom to pick up the photos immediately. Brown leaned back in his chair, thinking for a few moments, then looked at Monk. So why are you so damn eager to see the crime scene photos, Monk? You worked that scene yourself less than twenty-four hours ago.  
  
Because I think there's something here, in _this_ scene, that will definitely lead me to the killer this time. Something I must have missed last night. Adrian twitched his shoulder and rolled his head to the side. The killer is awfully desperate to take me off this case now, he _knows_ I'll get him this time. That's why he tried to run me down less than a block away from the police station.  
  
Captain Brown looked over at Rick. Speaking of which, I'm surprised to see you here today. You feeling all right? Because you look like hell, Rick.  
  
Oh come on, Town. You know it takes a lot more than that to take me off a case. Rick replied as he shifted his boots on the desk. I felt like hammered shit this morning when I woke up, but a few Tylenol, and I'm good as new. Rick leaned back a little in his chair, obviously sore and stiff despite his claims. Even though he was in a good amount of pain that morning, he still managed to roll himself off of the couch, and stubbornly insist on going with them after downing five Tylenol. A.J. knew just how obstinate his brother could be, so he finally agreed to let Rick tag along.   
  
Sergeant Nixon finally arrived with the crime scene photos from last night and handed them to Captain Brown. The Captain placed them in the folder containing the rest of the paperwork and gave it to Adrian. There you go, Monk. One complete file. What's on the agenda today?  
  
Adrian rose from his seat. I need to talk to the coroner about all of these murders, especially the one last night.  
  
Ok Monk, you've got it. We'll go right now.  
  
Sharona and A.J. quickly finished their coffee as everyone rose from their seats and followed Captain Brown out of the office. As they made their way through the station, Sharona turned around to make sure Adrian was following her, and saw that he was still standing in the doorway of Captain Brown's office, staring down at the open case file in his hands. Hang on a second, guys! We've lost Adrian! Rick, A.J., and Captain Brown turned around to watch as she went to collect Monk.  
  
Sharona moved to Adrian's side, and became a little concerned when he did not acknowledge her presence. Adrian? What's wrong?   
  
He looked up at her with a confused expression upon his face. Sharona, where am I? Monk asked as he raised his right hand to his forehead. His brow furrowed in thought as his gaze returned to the case file.  
  
Now Sharona was worried. She gently placed a hand on his arm and said, Adrian, I think you need to sit down.  
  
Rick wandered over and peered over Sharona's shoulder, regarding Monk with concern. Is he ok?  
  
I think Monk hit his head harder than we thought she murmured to Rick.  
  
Adrian looked at her, obviously excited about something. No, no! Sharona.........where am I? _Where am I_? He exclaimed. As he pointed to the photos in his hand, a knowing smile crept across his face.  
  
Sharona grinned as she finally understood what Adrian was saying. Ohhhh, I know that look! You did it, didn't you? Monk slowly nodded his head as his smile widened.  
  
A.J. and Captain Brown joined Rick, and they all watched as Adrian and Sharona exchanged looks. What's going on? A.J. inquired.  
  
Sharona turned around, and with a huge grin on her face, she declared He just solved the case!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Forty minutes later, Adrian, Sharona, Captain Brown, and the Simon brothers walked into the photography lab on the top floor of the San Diego Police Department. The photo lab shared it's back wall with the forensic unit's ballistics lab, and several technicians could be seen through the laboratory's large window, examining objects under comparison microscopes and going about their work. As the group entered the room, the Captain saw a janitor and pulled him aside. Where is Mr. Toole?  
  
The janitor replied, He's right over there, sir, in the back. You're just in time, he came back from a short lunch about five minutes ago.  
  
Ok, thanks. Now get out of here, and don't let anyone into the room unless I tell you to, ok?  
  
Yes sir! The worker hurried out the door.  
  
The group entered the laboratory and approached a man sitting on a stool in front of a drafting table, which was situated against the back wall of the photography lab, directly underneath the window of the adjoining ballistics room. He was six-foot two inches tall, about thirty-eight years of age, with short, well-kept dark brown hair. He wore a white lab coat, and sported a pair of very businesslike black frame glasses. This was Henry Toole, the lead crime scene photographer for the San Diego Police Department. When he heard the group approaching, Toole looked up from the negatives he was examining with a magnifying glass, and turned his seat around to face them. Captain! What can I do for you? He greeted Brown with a warm and friendly smile. Didn't Nixon deliver those prints? I gave them to him about -   
  
This isn't about the prints, Toole. Captain Brown coldly informed him.  
  
Henry's smile faded. Damn.....another job, then? All right, I'll grab my camera. He stood up and reached into the black camera bag sitting on the corner of the table directly in front of him. By the way, Captain, that new lens you ordered for me finally came in, and -   
  
I know you did it, Henry. Adrian interrupted. You're the serial killer.   
  
Henry's brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at Monk. Excuse me?   
  
Adrian stepped forward to confront Mr. Toole, and Sharona moved up with him, standing to Monk's right. I'll admit, you had me stumped at first. I can't believe it took me four days to see it. I fell for your misdirection, the same as everyone else. Adrian regarded Mr. Toole with a cold stare. But you can't fool me for long.  
  
Henry stood motionless in front of the table, his right hand still inside the large camera bag, staring at Monk as he began to present his case. Captain Brown folded his arms across his chest and glared at his photographer with rising anger, while Rick and A.J. took up positions behind Adrian, making sure they blocked the path to the only door in the room.  
  
Monk held up one of the crime scene photos from the homicide last night. This was your fatal mistake, Henry. You see this photo? Adrian pointed to the picture in his hand. It showed a full view of the victim's body lying beneath the bay window. The front sidewalk of the house and the street could clearly be seen through the large window above the victim. I watched you process this crime scene last night. I was standing on the sidewalk, right outside of this window..... He pointed to the window in the picture, ......counting the bricks in the front wall of the house. But when you look at the window in this photo, you can clearly see the sidewalk - I'm _not there_. I stood in this exact spot, watching you take pictures, yet I do not appear in _any_ of the photos you supposedly took last night! Where am I, Henry? Adrian tossed the picture onto the table. It came to rest in front of Henry's camera case. And what about the cop cars that were there as well, or the yellow police tape? The street in front of the house is empty! There can be only one explanation for this, Mr. Toole..........you photographed the scene _immediately_ after you killed her, and as with all nine of the San Diego victims, you placed _those_ photographs in the case files instead of the ones you were supposed to have taken while officially processing the scene. I went back and checked your crime scene photos from all of the other murders, and found the blatant clues you left, assuming the police would never see them. Adrian twitched his shoulder and tilted his head to the side. The strange positions of the bodies, using the unique knots that you had learned to tie while working at the stables your stepfather owned........it was all misdirection. We were so busy looking at what you did with the victims beneath the windows that we forgot to look _through_ the windows. There are no officers, or police cars on the street in _any_ of the photos from these nine homicides, which means those pictures could only have been taken by the killer before the police arrived on the scene.  
  
As Adrian Monk summed up his case, the expression on Henry Toole's face began to change. He had looked shocked at first, but as Adrian started putting the pieces of the puzzle in order, Henry's face slowly registered genuine esteem for the Detective. He simply smiled as Monk proceeded to incriminate him further.  
  
Hiding in plain sight was brilliant, Mr. Toole. Adrian continued. The police would never suspect one of their own. You pompously thought you could operate with impunity for as long as you pleased, that the cops were too stupid to spot the clues you brazenly left in the photographs, especially when Captain Nolan was in charge. But then, something unexpected happened........ Adrian looked over at Town. Captain Brown took over the case, and he _really_ started trying to catch the serial killer. Time to move on to easier hunting grounds. Monk faced Toole again. You chose San Francisco because the police department's lead crime scene photographer is retiring in a couple of months........you applied for the job in hopes of moving to a new killing ground permanently, thus allowing your twisted game with the police to continue.   
  
Captain Brown produced a copy of the job application Henry Toole had submitted to the S.F.P.D., which had been faxed over by Lt. Disher just twenty minutes ago.  
  
Adrian glared at Toole. But you had just one problem, Henry.......San Francisco is _my_ territory. You knew I would catch up to you quickly, so I had to be eliminated. You failed to assassinate me twice in San Francisco, and then things got worse. Captain Brown hired me, and I came to San Diego to hunt you down. That's when you redoubled your efforts to kill me........you had to take me off the case in any way possible, because you knew I was the only one that would notice the clues in the photographs. I was getting closer to catching you every day, and your precious game was about to end, so last night, you decided to squeeze in one last victim before I could take you down.   
  
Adrian pointed to the photo on the table showing the last victim. Last night, while watching you work this scene, I noticed something odd......you didn't load your camera before entering the house. I saw you attach the flash, but you didn't load any film. At the time I simply assumed you must have previously loaded the camera, but after looking at this picture today, I came to another conclusion.......you didn't need to load your camera because you had already photographed the scene earlier that night, right after you murdered her. That was your big mistake, the one you _knew_ I would notice as soon as I saw these photos, because I stood there and watched you process that crime scene myself. And you became so desperate to obliterate me that you tried one last urgent assassination attempt right in front of this police station. Adrian glanced back over his shoulder at Rick, who stood next to his brother, blocking the doorway. An attempt that failed, by the way, just like your attempts to stall these pictures this afternoon, to keep me from seeing them.  
  
Adrian searched Henry's face for signs of emotion, trying to interpret what he was thinking. Toole looked awestruck, and stared at Monk in sincere admiration. You really are as great as they say, Mr. Monk. It has been an honor and a privilege to match wits with you. Then he smiled, and began to speak in a chillingly calm tone. Even thought you caught me, I'm glad that Captain Brown hired you. It's rare that one meets a worthy adversary such as you..... he glanced over at Rick and A.J., and your two friends. Do you have any idea how hard it is to kill someone when the Simon brothers are watching their backs? Henry smiled and shook his head in disbelief. Well Mr. Monk, I'm sorry our game has to end so soon. A look of sadness crept across his face for a brief moment, but was soon replaced by smug satisfaction. Too bad you won't get to see what I had in store for you on Monday. It was truly.......inspired. He smiled sweetly at Adrian. But I do have one more trick up my sleeve. Henry turned his hateful smile to Sharona, and swiveled the camera case so it pointed directly at her. Everyone heard the distinctive click' as Henry pulled back the hammer on the gun he had concealed in the camera bag during his lunch break.  
  
Monk reacted first. He quickly moved to his right, and using all of his weight, pushed Sharona hard with his right shoulder, knocking her down just as Henry pulled the trigger of the hidden snub-nose .44. The bullet missed Sharona and slammed into the upper left side of Adrian's chest. His left shoulder jerked back violently when it struck him, turning him around and knocking him off his feet. Sharona landed face down on the floor, and Adrian landed hard on top of her on his back, knocking the wind out of her.  
  
Because Henry stood in front of the window to the ballistics room, Captain Brown and the Simons could not risk shooting him for fear of hitting the innocent employees. They had only one option - try and take him down by hand, which definitely gave Henry the advantage. He wrenched the pistol out of the camera bag with his right hand as Captain Brown ran forward to confront him. With his free hand, Henry grabbed the bag, laden with heavy photographic equipment, and swung it hard at the Captain's head as he approached. The bag struck Brown's chin with a loud crack', momentarily stunning him as he fell to the ground.   
  
Henry brought the gun around to try and shoot at Sharona again, but A.J. was too fast for him. He knocked Henry's arm into the air and sent a second shot harmlessly into the ceiling. As A.J. and the killer wrestled for control of the gun, Rick charged forward and rammed his shoulder into Henry's gut. The impact knocked Henry off of his feet and sent all three men crashing to the floor. A.J. grabbed Henry's arm and kept the gun pointed at the ceiling, while Rick sat up and began punching the killer. Rick's fists repeatedly smashed into Henry's face until he stopped moving, and lay on the floor, unconscious and bleeding. Captain Brown joined the Simon brothers and rolled Henry over to handcuff him. Brown had a large cut on his chin where the heavy bag hit him, but he ignored the bleeding as he restrained his suspect. A.J. wrenched the gun from Henry's limp hands and began unloading it while Rick helped Town handcuff him.  
  
Sharona had managed to catch her breath, but was still pinned face down on the floor beneath Adrian. Adrian, get off of me! He did not move, so Sharona put her palms to the floor and pushed with all her might, and she managed to roll him off of her back. She turned and found Adrian lying on the floor on his left side facing away from her. Sharona was concerned by his lack of movement and immediately moved to his side. Oh damn, no....... Adrian lay on the floor, his eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched in pain, clutching the left side of his chest with his right hand. She looked a bit closer and finally saw the bullet hole in the fabric beneath his fingers. Sharona's heart sank as she realized that Adrian had been shot in the chest.   
  
Sharona slid her arms underneath his and pulled him into her lap. Adrian groaned as she lifted him from the ground.   
  
It's ok, Adrian. Just lie still and let me take a look... Sharona's fingers were trembling as she began to unbutton the collar of his shirt.   
  
As Rick stood up and went to check on Monk and Sharona, A.J. examined the bullets he had pulled from Henry's revolver, and made a grim discovery. He turned and saw A.J. holding up one of the rounds from Toole's gun. Henry had modified his ammunition so it would penetrate a kevlar vest. He sprayed his bullets with teflon. The bastard was using cop killers'.   
  
Rick saw Monk lying in Sharona's lap, clutching his chest, and he realized that Monk had been hit. Rick quickly crossed the room and knelt next to them. He looked into Sharona's eyes, and saw concern and fear for her friend. Sharona, let me take a look he offered gently.   
  
Ok.....I don't - don't want to see it. She anxiously replied, and turned away as she pulled Adrian's hand from his chest to allow Rick access.  
  
Rick unceremoniously ripped open the front of Adrian's shirt and slipped his hand underneath the protective vest, searching the left side of Adrian's chest for the bullet wound he felt sure he would find there. A.J. moved across the room and stood behind his brother, peering over his shoulder and watching with a concerned look on his face.  
  
Adrian cringed in pain.   
  
Just hold still, Monk. Rick commanded as he continued probing for a wound. He looked at Sharona, and shook his head. Nothin' yet....   
  
Adrian opened his eyes and looked up at Sharona as she placed a hand on his forehead. he said weakly.  
  
She gave him a worried look.   
  
I'm.......on the floor Adrian complained. He began to look around, and frowned. You _know_ I don't like being on the floor, Sharona......it's all dirty! Sharona gave a little laugh and patted his cheek, because the moment he began whining about dirt, she knew that her boss was going to be fine.  
  
Rick removed his hand from Adrian's chest, smiled, and said, Well I'll be damned..... He tore open the long velcro flap on the front of the vest, pulled the removable trauma plate' out of it's pocket, and held it up for everyone to see. The bullet had barely caught the upper corner of the thick steel plate, less than an inch away from the edge. The heavy steel had buckled badly under the impact, but held, and the mashed bullet sat embedded in the corner of the thick metal.   
  
If the teflon coated bullet had hit Sharona's standard issue kevlar vest, it would have gone right through it and probably killed her. But the steel plates in Adrian's high-end vest had shattered the teflon coating and stopped the bullet cold.  
  
Rick shook his head in amazement. Monk, I never thought I'd say this, but it's a good thing you're so damn picky! Rick, Sharona, and A.J. helped Adrian to his feet. He immediately bent over and grabbed his aching shoulder, his left arm hanging limp at his side.   
  
I know it hurts now, Mr. Monk. A.J. reassured him. But it will hurt a lot less in a few minutes. A.J. turned and yelled to the Captain, He's fine, Town!  
  
Rick brushed some dirt from Adrian's back. Well, I've been shot lots of times. Feels like you got hit with a ten pound sledgehammer, doesn't it? Adrian looked at him and nodded in agreement. It'll take about ten minutes for the stinger' to go away. Enjoy it while it lasts! Rick smirked.  
  
Adrian leaned on Sharona with his good arm as they walked over to the Captain, who was had just finished searching Henry Toole to make sure there were no more weapons on him. Henry was now awake and sitting up, and he glared at Monk with seething hatred as he approached.   
  
Monk stood over him, stared directly into his eyes, and coldly stated, Game over..........I win.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning, Adrian and Sharona stood with Captain Brown on the sidewalk in front of the San Diego Police Department, waiting for one of the bomb squad technicians to pull her gold Volvo around front. The Captain had wisely insisted on checking her car over to make sure their serial killer had not left any explosive surprises for them. Adrian's chest was badly bruised from the impact of the bullet against the vest, and he favored his left arm slightly as his shoulder was still very sore.  
  
As the technician pulled up in Sharona's suitcase-laden car and parked in front of them, the Captain turned and shook Adrian's hand. Well Mr. Monk, I guess that's it. Thanks again for helping us out, we couldn't have done it without you. He gave Monk a warm smile, and added, Next time you're up for review in San Francisco, let me know. I'll be happy to testify on your behalf. You're a damn good cop, Monk.  
  
Adrian smiled in sincere appreciation. Thank you, sir....thank - thank you.  
  
Town shook Sharona's hand as well. Pleasure meeting you, Sharona. Take good care of Mr. Monk, we might just need him again sometime soon.   
  
Oh, we'd _love_ to work for you again! Sharona's face brightened at Brown's suggestion as she thought about the large check he had given them that morning. Thanks for everything, Captain!  
  
As Captain Brown turned to leave, Sharona pulled a wipe out of her purse and handed it to her boss, and he cleaned his hands as they headed for her car. Did you hear that, Adrian? Town said he might hire you again! He is such a nice man......and he pays well, too! She smirked as she added, You _sure_ you don't want to move to San Diego?  
  
Um, no. Adrian answered, still not getting the joke.  
  
Sharona opened the Volvo's door and lamented, Too bad Rick and A.J. aren't here, we really didn't get to say good-bye this morning. Sharona regarded Adrian with a critical eye. So, what did you think of them? I thought they were great!  
  
Well, that A.J. is awfully nice. I like him. His house was very clean, and well-organized, too. Except for the kitchen cabinets, they could use a little work....  
  
I should have known you'd say something like that. Sharona said as she rolled her eyes. What about Rick?  
  
Adrian paused as he opened his door, and thought for a moment. I guess......he's ok. Then he added, I think he's a good person.  
  
Their conversation was interrupted by someone honking a car horn, and Adrian and Sharona looked up to see the Simon brothers pulling up behind Sharona's car in A.J.'s red Camaro.  
  
Speak of the devil... Sharona mumbled.  
  
A.J. stepped out of the car as Rick climbed out over the passenger door, and they joined Monk and Sharona on the sidewalk.   
  
Hi guys! Sharona greeted them.  
  
Hey, I'm glad we caught you! A.J. said, looking dapper as always. We wanted to say good-bye before you two left town.  
  
Well, don't worry, Adrian said, we'll be back. I have to testify against Mr. Toole when he goes on trial. Monk noticed a large black duffel bag in the back seat of the Camaro. What's that? he asked.  
  
Oh, that? Rick replied. Surplus Sammy's had a big blowout sale. Town asked me to snag some night vision goggles for the S.W.A.T. team.  
  
Yeah, there goes his half of our big fat bonus for this case... A.J. lamented. Never let Rick Simon into Surplus Sammy's with money in his pocket!  
  
Town said he'd pay us back -  
  
Oh, _Rick_! I'm talking about all the other crap you bought today! A.J. turned to Sharona and said, He bought a camouflage ninja outfit, and a blowgun! He turned back to his brother and asked, What the hell are you going to do with that stuff, sneak around San Diego hunting monkeys?  
  
Adrian looked over at Sharona, who was trying really hard not to laugh at Rick.  
  
Rick defensively replied Hey, they were on sale! I got a great deal!  
  
You also bought ten packages of giant tubes of super glue! _Ten_ packages? How much glue can one man possibly need?  
  
Rick glared at Monk, and answered, Apparently, quite a bit.....  
  
Sharona could no longer control herself and burst out laughing. A.J. joined her, and soon Rick was laughing as well. Adrian just stood there wondering what was so funny.  
  
Rick admitted, that _was_ pretty damn funny. I'll have to remember that next time I play a practical joke on someone.  
  
Sharona looked at her watch. Well guys, it's a long drive to San Francisco, so we'd better get going. She gave each Simon brother a friendly hug and a kiss goodbye. Bye guys, thanks for everything!  
  
Give me a call when you're coming back to town. A.J. told her. Don't bother paying for hotel rooms, you two are always welcome to stay at my house.  
  
Sharona's jaw dropped open in surprise, and she and Adrian exchanged glances. You're kidding! You're _inviting _Adrian back to your place?   
  
Are you kidding? A.J. smiled. My house has never been cleaner! Thanks to him, I won't have to do any housework for a month! He turned to Adrian and said, Good-bye, Mr. Monk. Working with you has been a truly unique experience. He offered his hand to Monk.  
  
Adrian shook his hand. Thank you Mr. Si - um, A.J. He thought for a moment, and added, Adrian. It's Adrian........Monk. You can call me Adrian.  
  
A.J. smiled and released his hand. Good-bye Adrian.  
  
Monk turned to face Rick, and the two men stood in silence for a few moments. Rick had saved his life three times in less than one week, as well as Sharona's, and Adrian could not think of anything to say that would adequately express his gratitude. Rick and Adrian stared at each other, both at a loss for words.   
  
Finally, Adrian, in a quiet show of respect, extended his arm and offered his hand to Rick first. In all the years Sharona had known Monk, she had never once seen him do that.   
  
Rick accepted his hand in a friendly handshake, and smiled. Bye, buddy.  
  
As soon as they released each other's hands, Sharona casually handed Adrian his usual wipe. Rick suddenly turned to A.J. and snapped his fingers. he demanded. A.J. pulled a package of wipes out of his jacket pocket, gave one to Rick, then took one for himself. Then the Simon brothers, trying unsuccessfully to suppress their smiles, proceeded to vigorously clean their hands. Both Sharona and Adrian burst out laughing at the thought of Monk contaminating _them_.  
  
Bye, guys! See you next time! Sharona said, and she and Adrian waved at their companions. Rick grabbed the equipment bag out of the Camaro, and he and A.J. waved good-bye as well. As they parted ways, Adrian looked back at the Simon brothers in the passenger side mirror, and smiled - the belt on the back of Rick's jacket was neatly buckled into place. 


End file.
